


Black Christmas

by awarrington



Category: Star Trek, Star Trek (2009)
Genre: Christmas, Drunkenness, Farce, Holidays, Humor, M/M, Mission Fic, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-12-30
Updated: 2010-12-30
Packaged: 2017-10-14 05:45:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 32,299
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/146024
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/awarrington/pseuds/awarrington
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"First Time" story written for space_wrapped on LiveJournal, see Notes for prompt. The Enterprise is transporting important dignitaries - including Dr. McCoy's mother - to a planet petitioning for entry to the Federation.  It all goes wrong when the lights unexpectedly go out and hilarity ensues with mistaken identities, unexpected drunkenness and generally humorous shenanigans.  This story is loosely based on Peter Shaffer's play, 'Black Comedy'.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Black Christmas

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is dedicated to sangueuk (because I love her) and was written as an advent fic exchange with blcwriter. Note: POV switches between Jim, Bones and the universal narrator.
> 
> Prompt: : The Enterprise enters a region of space which sucks away light. Not a black hole, exactly; Scotty says they'll pass through in about 24 hours, if his readings (which the ship has to tell him aloud) and calculations (that he has to do in his head) are correct. Power and propulsion (and communications and basically everything else) work fine, but no lights of any kind--electrical, chemical, anything--will function. Kirk and McCoy find a way to celebrate this space-solstice together.

“Your mom’s coming aboard? Awesome!” Kirk grins.

“It’s not awesome,” McCoy grimaces, “it’s a royal pain in the ass.” He is all too aware of Jim’s ability to charm the hind legs off a horse. Getting embarrassing childhood stories out of his mom would be a cinch, and judging by the gleeful look on Jim’s face, he’s figured that much out, too.

“So, how come she’s with a diplomatic delegation?”

It’s a good question. This is the first diplomatic assignment his mother has been invited on. “The Maralavians place a lot of store in their history, culturally, so the Federation realized that understanding their past is going to be key to effective negotiations. She’s the only archaeologist Mendez has brought, and he’s got two historians on the team, too.”

McCoy is quietly proud of his mom’s late-flowering career. She gave up her work when he was born and took it back up with he went off to university. But she didn’t start to go off-planet on digs until after his father died, in which short time she’s built up quite a reputation.

Kirk slaps his friend on the back. “Well Bones, Christmas has just looked up.”

His scowl deepens. “Yeah, right,” he mutters as he watches his best friend leave sickbay with a definite jauntiness to his step.

+

Kirk stares at his PADD and realizes he’s read the same paragraph three times. Requisition forms always quadrupled in number right before arriving at a Starbase, and judging by the number of requests, the crew have outdone themselves this time. Okay, so the diversion to Deep Space 34 is last minute, and being the Holidays Season accounts for the requested increase in their alcohol inventory and fresh food supplies, but what the hell does Scotty need with a straw donkey, or three bowler hats? He’ll talk to his chief engineer in the morning.

He’s intending to do a little entertaining during the course of this assignment, so decides to put in a req. of his own. He’s already got a few bottles left in his stash – some Russian vodka Chekov has given him, a couple of bottles of Romulan ale he’s managed to get on the black market during their last visit to Wrigleys and some stuff given to him by the president of Tarazed V during a First Contact, which tastes gross, but gives him an awesome high for several hours and would probably be illegal in the Federation if they knew about it.

Bones tells him his mom loves chocolate, so he places an order for a box of chocolate truffles and also some chocolate liqueur. He has no idea what Mendez would like, but maybe some Sangría would remind him of his native Spain. And he wants to get some stilka juice for Spock as the other Spock mentioned to him recently that it was a drink he very much enjoyed. The old man suggested Jim give it a try, as it has a strong taste very close to lemon, but he cautioned to moderation as it’s highly intoxicating to humans. And a bottle of Kentucky Spirit for Bones. That done, his mind turns to other things not ship-related.

Like Leonora McCoy.

Bones tells him she’s a formidable woman. She likes to have things done Her Way and doesn’t suffer fools gladly. He’s planning on taking his relationship with Bones to a more intimate level - something he knows his friend has wanted for a long time, but he wasn't ready for. So getting on with his mom is a priority, but he suspects turning on the full glare of the vaunted Jim Kirk Charm isn’t going to get him anywhere. He’s going to have to find another way.

His thoughts are interrupted by the comm. whistle on his desktop console. Leaning across an array of pads, he presses the button to give both audio and visual.

“Kirk here.”

The beta shift junior comm. officer’s young face appears. “Sir, the Potemkin’s just sent a data package for the mission.”

That news is good and bad. “Thanks Ling – send it through to my terminal. Kirk out.”

Captain Luraash clearly doesn’t want to speak to him in person – which is no skin of his nose. It’s perhaps not surprising as Kirk knows he was one of the more vocal of the senior StarFleet staff who spoke out against him when he first got command of the Enterprise. Old School, Old Ideas. The kind of captain Pike despairs of.

Since they[re due to arrive at the Starbase just after 5am ship’s time, he needs to read whatever Luraash has sent him straight away.

He presses the comm. button again with a sigh. “Kirk to Spock.”

“Spock here sir,” is the almost immediate response.

“You busy?” The Vulcan’s off-shift but spends most evenings either with Uhura or in the labs.

“Negative, sir. Have you received the mission brief?”

It’s taken two years, but he and Spock are now so in tune, they often only need talk in half sentences.

“Your quarters? Requisitions – I need a change of scenery.”

“I’ll meet you there in two minutes, sir.”

He’s only seen Spock run in a crisis, which means to get there that quickly, he must have come from either the mess or more likely Uhura’s quarters. If he interrupted them getting it on, he thinks with a smile, his communication officer will be pissed.

Although they share a bathroom between their adjacent quarters, Kirk only uses it as a means of gaining entry to his First Officer’s cabin if Spock knows he’s coming and he’s already in there. Otherwise, he goes out to the corridor and the more conventional entrance.

Meeting Kirk at his door, the first thing Spock does as they enter the cabin is to order the temperature down ten degrees Celsius. Even without the heat, the room has a warm feel to it, with bold red furnishings and drapes on the walls. None of the furniture in Spock’s cabin is standard issue, with a large couch and two comfortable chairs, as well as artifacts from Vulcan, and other stylish artistic mementos from some of the planets they’ve visited. It surprised him at first that as a scientist and a being who eschews emotion, Spock would choose to surround himself with such opulence when he would expect austerity. Ironically, his own cabin is sparsely decorated by comparison, having moved around a lot as a young man, he never collected much. It probably says a lot about them both.

As often in the past, they take up positions, PADDs in hand, at either end of the large couch. Two hours later, Kirk leans back in his seat and rolls his neck until there’s an audible crack, then he gets up and moves around the cabin. It’s part of his assimilation process.

As he begins to roll the information up into some sort of strategy which he’ll discuss with Mendez while en route, his eyes alight on the various objet d’art that decorate Spock’s quarters, his fingers skimming over some of them. The largest is his idlomput, a statue carved in reddish stone that stands a meter tall, with a head like a Vulcan gargoyle. He’s finds the sculpture slightly disturbing, but apparently it helps Spock meditate – there’s no accounting for taste – and it’s now a rare treasure, having survived Vulcan’s destruction. Looking around, another plan is beginning to take form that has nothing to do with their mission. As he walks past it, his fingers skim over the surface of a real wooden table as the pads of his fingers detect the slight imperfections in the natural grain of the surface.

Focus. It’s too late for idle thoughts, so he returns to his end of the sofa. This is an indication to Spock that his processing time is over, and he looks up from his PADD expectantly.

“So… Aren’t we the lucky ones who happened to be in the area?” ‘The area’, Kirk privately thought, given the vast distances in space, means they’ve still had to travel for three days at warp 7. It’s had Scotty weeping into his porridge every morning at the strain it’s putting on the whole propulsion system; the Scotsman’s still convinced ejecting the warp core during the final battle with the Narada did more damage than was detected and repaired.

Spock looks up from the PADD he’s studying. “This is a delicate mission. It is unfortunate that having made First Contact, the Potemkin is now unable to return to complete the process.”

Kirk gets that, but there’s still a part of him that balks any time they pick up a mission original earmarked for another ship, like the Enterprise is second best. Given the successes they’ve had in their first two years, more than proving their capability, he knows he should be over that now. But then he gets to deal with people like Luraash who probably chalks up their good record to luck.

“And reading between the very, very detailed lines, Luraash is warning me not to fuck up. They were damn lucky one of their engineering techs spotted the problem with the warp containment field monitoring software, or they’d have all gone boom. After that scare, they did pretty well to be able to maintain Warp 2 to get them to DS-34. You know Bones’ mom’s on the diplomatic team?”

“I was aware.”

A grin spreads across Kirk’s face. “I think Bones would like to try and keep me away from her, so I don’t learn about his misspent youth.”

Spock raises an eyebrow. “Misspent youth?”

“Knowing Bones, he was probably an exemplary kid, but I’m hoping she might be able to dish some dirt on him.”

“It appears to be a time-honored tradition among Humans. I recall the occasion we met Commander Kirk at Starbase 17.”

Kirk winces at the memory. He didn’t need his entire senior team to know that his brother had once laced his drink with a sedative not long before he went to bed, and then while deeply asleep, got his friends to move his bed out of the house, carrying it down the street and into the school parking lot. Although he still smiles at his revenge when two months later, Sam had come home drunk from a friend’s, and while asleep, he’d shaved off one of his eyebrows. Given Sam’s eyebrows are as thick as his own – and therefore pretty prominent – it did look hilarious. It was especially sweet because it also happened to be Prom week.

“Have you met Commodore Mendez?” Kirk asks, wanting to change the subject.

“Negative. I am aware of his reputation, however, as a successful diplomat. My father has had occasion to work with the commodore and speaks highly of him.”

“High praise coming from Sarek. There’s a rumor Mendez is tipped to be the next up for promotion to Admiral. They say Nogura’s sending him out on these missions as part of his grooming for the new role of StarFleet Diplomatic Attaché to the Federation Council.”

“I am also aware of that rumor.”

It’s unusual for Spock to admit to acknowledging hearsay. “Any truth to it, you think?”

“He is the logical choice for the new position.”

Kirk grins. “And…?”

“The probability of Mendez being offered it is 86.4%.”

Kirk’s grin widens. “And…?”

Spock quietly huffed – a sound Kirk loves to hear, because it’s the Vulcan equivalent of eyeball rolling, or maybe sighing, he isn’t sure. Either way, it gives him a kick when he hears it. “I believe he will be in post within a year.”

Kirk laughs triumphantly. “Spock, you’ve just speculated!”

“It is an unfortunate side-effect of working with Humans that some of your practices appear to be…” the corner of Spock’s mouth quirks, “…as you would say, ‘rubbing off on me’.”

Kirk laughs and stands with a stretch. The easy camaraderie between them had taken awhile, but never in a million years, back at the start of the mission, would he have imagined Spock teasing him on occasion. “Right, I’m going to hit the sack as it’s only five and a half hours to when we pick up the delegation. Can you set up a briefing for department heads tomorrow at eleven hundred. I’ll see you in the transporter room.”

Spock stands up with a grace Kirk continually marvels at. “Indeed Captain. I intend personally to oversee our arrival at DS-34 and will meet you at the appointed time.”

“No rest for the wicked?” Kirk says archly.

“It was my understanding,” Spock deadpans back, “that you were intending to sleep, sir.”

“Touché!” Kirk laughs. It bothers him less than it used to, that Spock will be pulling an all-nighter. “Catch you later.” And with that, he steps through the bathroom into his own quarters and a very welcoming-looking bed.

Despite his fatigue, Kirk finds himself thinking about Bones. With a smile on his face, he recalls that fateful day they met on the shuttle to San Francisco. All rough and wild-eyed, Jim had thought him the hottest guy he’d ever met, but it didn’t take a rocket-scientist to know that trying to get into his pants would be impossible. Bones was hurting, his life torn apart by circumstances out of his control and any form of intimacy was just not on the cards. Since no other guy came even close to measuring up on his Bonesometer scale of hotness, from that point on he only dated women.

His mind wanders to that night in their third year, after celebrating Bones’ thirtieth birthday, when his friend drunkenly admitted he found Kirk attractive and then proceeded to liken him to an untamed stallion – stunning to look at, a wild ride, but it’ll end in tears.

Bones figured that one day, a beautiful woman would likely break him in, subdue his wildness and for a while, it looked like Carol Marcus might be that woman. But when she’d finally dumped him after nearly a year together, he’d been relieved. When she requested a transfer to the Enterprise two months ago, he’d hesitated over it, but Spock was keen to get her in his department as her research in molecular biology was cutting edge and she’d be an asset to his team. He relented and since she came aboard four weeks ago, after welcoming her as he does all new crew – although he added that he only intended to interact with her in a professional capacity – she seems to have accepted that and he’s had only cursory dealings with her. As for that night with Bones, he was never certain whether his friend was too wasted to remember that discussion, but he himself never forgot it.

Bones was right about that it would take a special lady to tame him. It’s just the lady in question isn’t quite what he meant – this one is twelve hundred meters long and weighs one hundred and fifty thousand tonnes. Somewhere along the line, having responsibility for the ship, her eleven hundred crew and each of the missions they were assigned caused him, for the first time in his life, to long for some stability in his private life. Kirk finds it lonely at the top. To compensate, he spends as much of his free time with Bones as their busy schedules allow, and always finds he doesn’t want those mellow evenings to end.

The thought of interacting intimately with Bones brings on the inevitable physical reaction. With a sigh and a smile, Kirk closes his eyes and imagines it’s his friend’s hand that’s slowly traveling down his stomach and taking his cock into a firm grip. This should get him to sleep.

+

“Que?”

The response from Commodore Jose Mendez to Kirk’s greeting and vigorous shaking of his hand isn’t what he expects, as the dignitary looks quizzically at the man at his side– his assistant, Kirk guesses – who then proceeds, shockingly, to shout at him in Spanish. When he’s done, he turns an apologetic look on Kirk. “I am Jose Acosta, Captain,” he announces in a more normal volume, “Commodore Mendez’ personal assistant. Unfortunately during our voyage, his hearing aid began to malfunction. A member of the Potemkin engineering team had begun to work on it when they had the engine problems and his attention was diverted to more immediate needs, so it remains unrepaired. I should have sent a communiqué to inform you. I apologize.” Though he speaks perfect English, it is with a thick Spanish accent.

Kirk smiles. “Then I’ll make it a priority for a member of my engineering department to fix it before we reach Maralavia.” He’s seen Scotty’s team pull rabbits out of the hat enough times to be certain they can do it, and in good time, too. There’s no way negotiations can begin if the Federation’s chief negotiator can’t hear a thing.

“In the meantime, Captain, the Commodore can hear you if you yell.”

Kirk had done stranger things. “Welcome aboard the Enterprise, Commodore Mendez,” he shouts as a second group materialize on the transporter pad behind where they’re standing and, to a person, all glance his way. He assumes they’re already aware of the issue and aren’t thinking he’s being unconscionably rude. “I hope you find your stateroom comfortable, sir.”

“Thank you Captain,” Mendez nods. “I am certain it will be satisfactory.” Despite the outward calm of the man, Kirk imagines he’s likely embarrassed by the situation. It’s not the smoothest of first impressions.

The transporter room is now filled with people – the first wave of the diplomatic team are just leaving with various crew to carry their luggage and escort them to their quarters, the second group are just stepping down from the transporter pad and being met and greeted, all very efficiently, Kirk notes.

Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Bones hug a silver-haired woman from the second group, but there’s no time to introduce himself while he’s still dealing with the Commodore. Next to them, Scotty mans the controls, and Spock stands at ease beside him quietly monitoring the proceedings to ensure it all goes smoothly. Kirk beckons the Vulcan forward with a tilt to his head.

“This is my First Officer, Commander Spock,” he shouts. This was going to be interesting – he’d only heard Spock raise his voice in times of danger, to make himself heard.

“We come to serve,” Spock greets, his voice raised but not as loud as either Kirk’s or Acosta’s. Dignified to the last.

Mendez nods and perfectly mirrors Spock’s use of the ta’al. “Greetings Commander.”

As they exit the transporter room, Kirk notices Bones and his mother have already left; he’ll have to catch up with her later.

“I’d like to invite Commodore Mendez to my quarters this evening at nineteen hundred for a meal and an informal talk about the up-coming mission,” Kirk says to Acosta as they ride the lift down to the VIP staterooms. “I’m sure engineering will have fixed his hearing device by then.”

“Since the commodore has no pressing matters, I am certain he will be able to attend,” Acosta confirms.

“Spock?” Kirk quizzes.

“I apologize Captain, I regret I am overseeing star-charting which will require my input for a number of hours. Federation ships have rarely traversed this sector of space. Indeed, we will be passing through one region that, to my knowledge, has not been explored.”

It is an informal request and Spock understands that, allowing him to decline without reservation. Kirk smiles indulgently at his first officer’s quiet enthusiasm. “Sure. If anything interesting comes up, I’ll brief you.”

The door opens onto a corridor and Kirk leads the group, trailed by two yeoman carrying luggage. Further down around the natural curve of the passageway, he catches a brief glimpse of Bones as he enters the room his mother will be occupying for the duration of the mission, bringing a wistful smile to his face. It’s been over two years since they last saw each other and will probably be spending some time catching up.

Stopping at a door, Kirk keys it open and then turns to Acosta – he figures he’ll let the assistant do any shouting of instructions. “May I ask you both to place your palm on this pad to scan it for locking purposes. I’ll ensure your scans will also gain you access to my quarters.”

The process completed, they enter a large cabin. “There are two bedrooms off this main room with a connecting bathroom. You’ll find the computer consoles linked up to both StarFleet and Federation nets – your own IDs will gain you the access you need.”

“Thank you Captain,” Acosta says as the yeoman disappear into the respective bedrooms with the luggage. “We are both fatigued as we only slept briefly before we arrived at DS-34.”

Kirk understands – he’s not had more than four hours himself. Hopefully they’ll be up to joining in the crew’s holiday celebrations. “The crew are holding a party tomorrow evening to celebrate the holidays, which all of the diplomatic team are welcome to attend – we’ll send out invitations today.”

“It would be an excellent opportunity to meet and mingle with your crew, Captain. I am sure the team would be delighted to attend.”

Mingling would be good, but not if everyone was going to have to yell to be heard by Mendez. “Feel free to contact Lieutenant Commander Scott regarding the hearing aid when you’re ready. I’ll brief him to expect a call from you. Meanwhile, if you have any questions or problems, please contact Commander Spock or me.”

Mendez smiles and speaks for the first time since the transporter room. “I appreciate the effort you’ve gone to get here so quickly and to take this mission over from the Potemkin,” his Spanish accent as thick as Acosta’s. “I’ve heard good things about you from Chris Pike, Captain, and look forward to becoming better acquainted.”

Kirk positively beams at him. The more of the upper echelons on his side, the better. “It’s my pleasure, Commodore,” he shouted. “I’ll leave you to rest.”

Kirk turns to Spock in the turbolift. “How are your ears?”

“Sir?” he asks, raising his eyebrow.

“From all the yelling. I know they’re more sensitive than Humans’, are they ringing?”

“If I begin to hear strains of ‘Ding Dong Merrily On High’, I will be sure to let you know. Sir.”

The bridge crew turn around at the sound of their captain laughing as he exits the lift, his straight-faced First Officer two steps behind.

+

“This has to be one of your more idiotic ideas, Jim, and there have been many. Suppose Spock finishes his experiments early?” How McCoy – against his better judgment – let Jim talk him into helping him ‘borrow’ some of the Vulcan’s furniture and artwork, he doesn’t know.

“So, what do you think? Stylish? Manly? Cultured? All of the above?”

The thought crosses his mind that ‘all of the above’ would be an accurate description of Jim Kirk. Few, if any, knows the captain as well as he does. He is famously attractive, and for some reason people don’t look beyond that handsomely chiseled face to the man he really is. That said, he himself could look at Jim all day and not tire of it. But behind those stunning blue eyes is a man whose breadth of knowledge is truly staggering, which covers a broad spectrum that includes the arts.

Back to Jim’s question, McCoy crosses his arms. “I am not going to pass comment on your interior design capabilities. And you didn’t answer my question.” He is all too familiar with his friend’s penchant for ignoring questions he doesn’t want to answer.

“He’s in cartography, and when I made some discreet enquiries, I found out they’re cataloging uncharted space – there’s no way he’s going to call it a night halfway through.”

“Way to spend Christmas Eve. Maybe they’ll find one to make a wish on.”

“Should I put the idlomput here….or here?” Kirk asks stepping back to check.

“Why did you move out your old rocking chair?” He quite enjoyed sitting in it when he and Jim got a night to themselves.

“Because it’s dilapidated and the paint’s peeling off it.”

“That just gives it a certain charm,” McCoy protests, having grown up in an old house full of furniture. “It’s a genuine antique.”

“I only keep it because it belonged to grandpa Tiberius. Even I can see it should have been trashed years ago. I prefer the look of Spock’s chairs.”

“And what if he decides to pop back to his quarters for something and finds half his stuff missing? You know how private he is – you going into his quarters without his permission and taking—“

“Borrowing,” Jim corrects.

“Whatever. I still haven’t forgotten what he did to you last time he lost it.” The thought of an avenging Vulcan throttling Jim does nothing to assuage his unease.

Spock’s sofa is larger than Kirk’s standard issue one and dominates the room. In fact, they’ve had to move some of Kirk’s furniture into Spock’s quarters to accommodate such a large item as well as the two additional chairs and his real-wood table. A number of the smaller artifacts also adorn his shelving.

Jim stands in the middle of the cabin, arms folded in what McCoy’s come to recognize as his belligerent pose. “You’re being melodramatic, we’ve only borrowed a few bits of furniture and a couple of small pieces of art, that’s all.”

“And the idlomput – that’s more valuable than all the other stuff put together as it’s one of the few sculptures that survived Vulcan’s destruction.” It’s the one thing McCoy is worried about. The piece is priceless and as far as he is concerned, doesn’t add anything to the ambiance of the room –in fact, it’s downright ugly.

“Quit worrying, Bones. We’ll put everything back as soon as your mother leaves.”

“I still don’t think we should have done this, Spock, or no.”

“You can’t argue with the fact these quarters,” Jim waves his arm vaguely around, “look like they belong to a man of culture and good taste, i.e. me.”

“Taste? The idlomput looks like a statue of Satan. I honestly don’t know how the overgrown elf can stand having it in his quarters. It gives me the creeps.”

“It’s obviously a stylized version of a Vulcan – the ears are kinda big and extra pointy, though.”

McCoy goes to stand in front of it and tries to view it objectively. “And what’s with the gaping mouth?” He looks over to Jim who is bending over the sofa, messing around with the cushions. McCoy’s eyes travel down to his ass, before guiltily looking away.

“That’s where he burns incense when he meditates,” Kirk answers, straightening up, apparently satisfied with his handiwork.

“How come you know so much about it?” He can’t imagine Spock would allow Jim to remain in his quarters while he meditates. From what he knows of the Vulcan practice, he doubts even Uhura is afforded that privilege.

“I’ve picked it up bits and bobs when we’ve played chess.” He moves a small bowl from a shelf to the middle of the table.

“I honestly don’t understand why you’re trying to impress her – and I’m not sure this stuff will. My mother will either like you or not, regardless of your interior design skills.” McCoy watches Jim move a bowl again, one he’d previously placed on a shelf to the middle of Spock’s table. He was never like this at the academy: one of the things he noticed early on about Jim was how few personal effects he had. It’s as though he never expects to stay in any one place long and doesn’t want to be dragged down by unnecessary possessions. Well, Jim’s stuck on this boat for another three years, which might account for his sudden interest in interior design, or maybe Jim’s just becoming more settled. Either way, McCoy is slightly bemused by his fussing.

“I hadn’t planned on your mom coming tonight. I wanted to do a bit of schmoozing with Mendez and he apparently invited her after I mentioned you’d be here.”

“Knowing her, she probably invited herself to get some time with Mendez. She wants to get a project started on Luth Prime. It’s a planet in Sector 96 where nothing but deserted ruins are left from a civilization that seems to have died out over 50,000 years ago. She needs funding to get a team together. Apparently, the Commodore’s well-connected with a few people on the Federation Heritage Funding Committee.”

“So she’s gonna suck up to him then?”

“You can talk. When did Jim Kirk start brown-nosing with the upper echelons?” It actually bothers him. He’s never seen Jim pander to authority before.

Jim crosses his arms and looks slightly belligerent. “I’m not brown-nosing. It’s about politics, Bones; your mom understands. It’s getting the right people on your side. You never know when you’re going to need allies and Mendez is tipped for the top.”

“Yeah, well it’s all bullshit and a year ago you would have thought so too.” McCoy knows he isn’t being entirely fair. Years working in a hospital and at the StarFleet clinic, have taught him that pissing the wrong people off could put career plans back years. But it doesn’t mean he has to like it. And the fact that Jim Kirk, of all people, has succumbed to The Game is a travesty.

“I’ve tried to explain…” Kirk trails off, McCoy guesses at the look on his face. He isn’t one to hide his feelings. “…Never mind, get me a beer, will you? I’ve got a bad feeling about tonight. I can feel it in my—”

“—bones, yes ha-ha very funny. Here – and go easy on the booze tonight. Things definitely will go downhill if you have one over the top.”

Jim deftly catches the can lobbed at him and opens it. “I’m a moderate drinker these days.”

“What, like the time in that bar on Wrigley’s when you stripped down to your briefs and lapped danced on Spock, singing ‘I Want An Alien For Christmas’?”

Kirk grins ruefully. “The neck-pinch hurt like a bitch – worse than the hangover.”

Bones smiles at the memory of Kirk dropping like a stone and Spock looking almost surprised at what he’d done to his captain. He claimed he acted on instinct. Whatever.

“How do I look?” Kirk asks with a smile, arms outstretched.

Beautiful, McCoy thinks. It took the quartermaster a month or so to figure it out, but now his uniform fits like a dream. The trousers are just tight enough to make walking behind Jim an attractive proposition. And while the gold shirt isn’t an ideal color on him, it shows off his wide shoulders and flat stomach well. He’s wearing his hair shorter these days, and McCoy likes this look. A lot.

“You’ll do,” he responds, apparently begrudgingly. “Hey go easy on that!”

Kirk throws the empty can in the recycler. “I’m not going to drink any more. Just need some Dutch courage to face your mom.”

Bones realizes Kirk has obviously built up an image of her in his mind from things he’s said over the years. But they’ve never met as she’s spent most of her time since he joined StarFleet, off-planet. “Listen Jim, if she gets on her high-horse about anything, just stand up to her. She appreciates people who aren’t afraid of her.”

“I remember that time I sat in your quarters when she commed you – even you were cowering! She reminds me of a school teacher I had when I was six – she used to scare the shit out of me.”

“That was different. She was pissed with me because I wasn’t standing up to Joce enough – she’d been making it difficult for mom to see Joanna when she was home. Mom only scares people who don’t know her well enough not to be taken in by her manner.”

Jim sits and sprawls on Spock’s couch. “I think I’m scared already!”

“Don’t be ridiculous. You’ve not even spoken to her!” McCoy is concerned that if Jim is jumpy around her, she’ll pick it up and find it off-putting, and he really wants his mom to like his best friend. She’s heard plenty about him over the years – it’s about time they met, though he’d prefer it in more informal circumstances.

“I want to make a good impression,” Kirk says in an echo of his own thought. “I’m your commanding officer and your best friend. I want her to see you chose wisely.”

McCoy sits down on the other end of the couch and twists to look at his friend, puzzled by the comment. “I didn’t exactly get to choose my commanding officer, and what the fuck does it matter who I choose as a friend?”

“You know the rep I’ve got for being a lothario. Gossip about who I’m supposed to be screwing is more prominent on the nets than all the successful missions we’ve had.”

“I know it bugs you, but I don’t know why you give a fuck. To be honest, I’ve never figured out how you got that reputation. You’d be totally worn-out if you slept with all the people you’re supposed to have. Plus your name’s been linked with men as well as women, which just goes to show how much they know.”

Kirk looks to McCoy like he was going to say something but then changes his mind, leaning forward, elbows on his knees. After a pause, he says quietly, “Of course it’s all exaggerated. I mean, who can I sleep with from my crew? Because of rankings, there’s not many I’d be allowed to fraternize with.”

Me, McCoy thinks. You could fraternize with me. It’s an old thought which he pushes away. “Have you slept with any of the crew since we started the mission?”

“Yeah, all of them! Or so the nets would have you believe.”

“Seriously.”

“Seriously? None.”

The answer leaves him feeling ambivalent. On the one hand, since he’s wanted Jim pretty much from the time he’d come out of his post-divorce funk, the thought that no-one else is having him leaves a small feeling of satisfaction. On the other hand, he knows Jim is highly sexual by nature, and it can’t be good for him having to abstain for the typically long periods between shore-leaves. With his job, he needs a stress-reliever.

“What about Carol Marcus? You had a thing going with her back at the Academy.” McCoy can’t quite believe he’s suggesting her – he always felt there wasn’t something quite right about her, but has never been able to put his finger on what it is, exactly.

“You know that was over ages ago – now she reports into Spock. As a scientist, she’s very clever, and about as warm and cuddly as a le-matya. Thinking about it, they probably get on well.”

McCoy laughs. He knows Jim doesn’t think of Spock that way, but is obviously aware that he and the Vulcan don’t always see eye to eye.

Kirk gets up and strolls over to his computer console. “Let’s put some music on. Jose and your mom will be here soon.”

“Jose?”

“Well, okay, he hasn’t told me I can call him by his first name, but by the time he leaves tonight, we’re gonna be like that,” he says, crossing his fingers. “So, what kind of music does your mom like?”

“Mendez I get. But I still don’t understand why you’re trying to ingratiate yourself with my mom.”

The look on Jim’s face isn’t one he can decipher.

“What?” McCoy asks, worriedly. He’s always been a one to think the worst, though he honestly couldn’t imagine what Jim’s motive was in this case.

“Aw fuck it Bones, I wasn’t going to say anything until later, after everyone had gone.”

“Say what?”

Kirk walks over to him “This,” and then leans forward and kisses him. McCoy’s wanted this for so long that the shock of it doesn’t hit until after he’s already responding, opening his lips, letting Jim explore his mouth with his tongue. Then he comes to his senses and pushes Jim away. But he’s apparently incapable of coherent thought.

“What…? I don’t… Jim?” His voice is almost hoarse.

Kirk straddles his lap and takes one of McCoy’s hands into his own. “I’ve wanted you since the first day we met, Bones,” Jim says, unbelievably.

He gazes into those blue, blue eyes. “But you’re—”

“Straight? No, I’ve just not fucked a guy since I met you – none ever matched up to you and maybe, deep down, I was holding out for you – I don’t know. Before the Academy I was pretty much down the middle male and female.”

“You never said.”

“It’s not like we ever sat down and had a discussion about our sexual orientation. I just let you assume, because I didn’t want to tell you why I’d stopped dating guys.”

It’s true, they never had. McCoy wonders, when he himself started dating, and occasionally introduced Jim to some of the men he slept with, how it must have made Jim feel, even though he now knows it was Jim’s choice.

A million thoughts are streaming around his head and he just doesn’t know where to begin, especially as a lot of blood has clearly left his brain and headed south. He glances down at the hand Jim’s holding and laces their fingers together, noticing the contrasting color of their skin.

“So why now?” is the one that was most pressing.

“You were pretty fucked up when we met, what with the divorce and whatnot. By the time you were over that, we were friends and I knew you were interested in me, but you’re not a sharer, are you?”

“No, I’m not.” Even if he’d known Jim was into men, McCoy would never have seriously pursued him – Jim was too much of a wild-child back then. Twenty two and sowing enough wild oats to feed a nation. He never could have tied Jim down, and wouldn’t have wanted to as his raw sexuality was such an intrinsic part of who is was. In some ways, it still is, but Jim’s learned to rein it in, channeling a lot of his sexual energy into his job and his ship.

“Back then,” Kirk continues, “I wasn’t ready to settle down. I thought I was with Carol, but when she dumped me, I couldn’t have been happier.”

McCoy looks at him, his heart hammering. “What’s changed?”

“Me, I guess. Getting this command, being out here in the black where we never know what’s going to hit us next has made me change my priorities, made me question a lot of things. The responsibility I now have – I can’t let my dick lead me around any more, you know?”

McCoy rubs his thumb affectionately over Kirk’s knuckles and smiles. “You’ve grown up.”

“Yeah, maybe. I dunno – I’m not into over-analysis. I just know that I don’t want meaningless flings any more. I want what we’ve got, our friendship, but I don’t want you leaving at the end of the evening. I want you to stay the night – I want to give all of me to you, to be able to touch you, feel you, love you.”

McCoy realizes his mouth is open and closes it. “You’re serious.”

“Totally,” Kirk grins.

That smile always undoes him. Then the penny drops. “It’s why you’ve listed me as next of kin.” The thought gave him a warm feeling.

“Yeah.”

“And why you want us to buy a place together. I thought—”

“—I was being practical?” Kirk finishes. “I was.”

“How could you be so sure I would want this?” It kind of bothered him that Jim’s made such a big assumption, even if it is accurate. If they’re going to have a good relationship, it shouldn’t be starting out with one of them taking the other for granted.

“I didn’t, for certain. I figured it would work for us whether we got together or not. Since mom sold our house four years ago, neither of us have had a place on Earth we could call home.”

McCoy still had strong memories of that time. Winona let the house go without telling Jim. It was a practical move, since no-one was living there – her tours hardly ever brought her back to Earth, his brother and wife moved to Deneva and even back then a year into his time at the Academy, Jim was slated to go on one of the new five year missions.

“Yeah, I remember when your mom sold the place, you took off without a word.” And I was worried sick. “Took me that long to figure out where you’d gone.”

Kirk reaches out and runs his thumb along McCoy’s lips, the touch leaving a tingle in its wake. “When you turned up in Riverside, that was a turning point for us. I don’t know if you felt it, but something in our friendship changed then.”

“Yeah, it was,” he acknowledged.

“You sobered me up and dragged me back to the Academy,” Jim grins ruefully and shakes his head. “When you showed up, I wanted to take you to bed and ravish you. Don’t know how I kept my hands off you.”

“Uh…” Bones smiles at the memory. “You didn’t.”

“Huh?” Jim gives him that look, eyes penetrating, trying to figure if he’s pulling one over on him.

“You were, let’s say…’handsy’. It was distracting, to say the least, because I wanted to let you,” he admits.

“Back then? I thought you still weren’t over Joce at that point.”

“Well, that’s when I found out I was.” It’s when I realized I love you, he thinks.

“Handsy, huh?” he smiles lasciviously and slides his hands under McCoy’s shirts and leans forward. McCoy automatically lifts his face to capture Jim’s kiss and this time, he isn’t in shock and can really appreciate it.

It feels totally natural and maybe because they knew each other so well, this really is is a small extra step. Knowing he loves Jim, it wouldn’t take much at all to fall in love with him.

This is so right.

Kirk pulls away, and McCoy can feel the reluctance in his movement. “I didn’t want to talk to you about this until later, so we could just go to bed and fuck each other into tomorrow – and what better way to celebrate Christmas? Now we’ve got to wait a whole evening,” he grimaces. He pushes himself back, trailing a hand over McCoy’s face, along his jaw, fingers sliding across his lips, making him shiver.

McCoy watches as Jim takes a deep breath and climbing off him, composes himself.

“Right, your mom,” he says, with a sigh, picking up the previous conversation. “What’s her taste in music?”

It takes a moment for McCoy’s brain to get back into gear as he stares at the obvious bulge in Jim’s jeans. “Uh…”

“Get your brain out of my pants,” Jim grins.

McCoy laughs. “She doesn’t like anything much except Country & Western.” He feels he should apologize for that, but refrains. Especially as Jim’s taste in music is questionable.

“Figures. I think I might have something by Dolly Parton.”

“Dolly Parton? Are you serious? Don’t you have anything more contemporary?” he asks, getting up to look at Jim’s collection for himself.

“Nope,” Jim responds with a grin as he searches his music database. “Now I think I should offer up a prayer. Let this evening go well. Let Jose Mendez think I’m a highly competent Captain, let Bones’ mom think I’m highly cultured and let Spock never find out we borrowed some of his stuff behind his back. Amen.”

McCoy rolls his eyes. “I personally couldn’t stand the woman’s voice. I’m surprised you’ve got her in your coll—“

“What the fuck happened to the lights? Computer, lights to one hundred percent.”

McCoy, stops dead, not wanting to trip over anything. Normally it wouldn’t be an issue as he knows Jim’s quarters like the back of his hand. But with all the new furniture, he didn’t trust himself not to stumble and break something.

“Unable to comply.”

“What the hell?” McCoy says as Dolly Parton’s voice fills the dark cabin. He puts his hands out in front of him and slowly moves towards where Jim’s standing.

 

+

It was that prayer, Kirk thinks. He shouldn’t have tempted fate. “Computer, why are you unable to comply? Put on the emergency lights.”

“Unable to comply.”

Time to call Scotty to find out what the fuck’s going on. If something was going to help him shift his thoughts away from wanting to fuck Bones senseless, it was going to be something to do with his ship. At least he’s already at his computer console and doesn’t have to navigate his way across his quarters. His console looks dead, as the display’s vanished, though the music is still playing, so some part of it is working. Knowing exactly where the comm. button is, he presses it and hopes it’s working. “Kirk to engineering – woah, Bones!” he exclaims as a pair of hands clutch at his ass. Normally he’d have a smart alec retort about how irresistible his ass is, especially now that Bones is free to touch it any time he wants, but right now he needs to get the lighting sorted before Mendez shows up.

“Sorry,” Bones mutters. “Can’t see a fucking thing.”

“Yeah, yeah, any excuse,” Kirk laughs and composes himself when a voice comes over the comm.

“Scotty here, Captain. If it’s about the lights, it looks like the problem’s ship-wide.”

“No lights, anywhere? What happened to the generators?”

“That’s the weird thing sir. They all seem to be functioning perfectly fine. Just that anything that emits light has gone out.”

“Yeah, my computer screen’s blank too. Got any idea what’s causing it?”

“No idea, Captain – I’ve never seen anything like it – oof! Watch where you’re bloody going, man! Sorry sir. It’s a bit chaotic down here.”

He can imagine. “How about any other systems?”

“Everything else is working fine, it’s as if something’s sucked all the light out of everything.”

“Any idea when you can you get it back?” It’s a faint hope, since the engineer clearly doesn’t have a clue what the cause is, and given the unusual situation, intuition told him it isn’t something that’s originated on board.”

“One moment sir.”

“Okay, Scotty.”

“If people start trying to find their way around, we’re going to have a slew of accidents,” McCoy says into the silence.

“Point. I’ll make a ship-wide in a minute.” In the darkness of his cabin, his friend is standing much closer than he would otherwise – he can actually feel his body heat.

“Sorry, that was Mr. Spock, sir. He’s looking into external sources of the problem, but with no computer read-outs, he’s having to work verbally with the computer, so it’s going to take a while. I told him I’d pass that on to you so he can focus on it. I’ll get back to you when I’ve more to report.”

“One other thing – it’s a longshot,” Kirk adds. “Did you fix Mendez’ hearing aid before the lights went out?”

He hears a definite sigh down the comm.. “No sir. I gave it to Keenser – the whole unit needed stripping down and a new part built from scratch. He was partway through doing it when it went dark.”

Kirk sighs; the evening is so not going as planned. “Okay, thanks, Scotty, Kirk out. Kirk to bridge.”

“Sulu here sir. You calling about the lighting outage?”

Damn, it really was all over the ship. “Yeah – everything okay up there?”

“Fine sir, except none of us can see a thing. It’s not just the overhead lights – it’s any light, the viewscreen, even the buttons on our panels, none of them working.”

“But everything else is okay?” Scotty’s already told him as much, but he can’t help but check.

“That’s the strange thing, sir. Everything else is working perfectly fine. Engines, communications, the doors and even the lifts.”

His impotence in this situation leaves Kirk feeling agitated. “I’ll come up to the bridge.”

“What’s the point?” McCoy asks beside him at the same time Sulu replies.

“With all due respect sir, I think you’re better off staying where you are. There’s nothing you can do up here and I know you were planning on a dinner this evening. Hopefully we’ll have this sorted in time for it to go ahead.”

“I bet you and Chekov are wishing you hadn’t volunteered for beta shift.”

Sulu laughs. “With any luck, this’ll be over quickly and we’ll still get a lie-in tomorrow to open our presents.”

Kirk grins. “Well, sit tight, all of you. I don’t want to hear about any accidents on the bridge. Can you get Rifat to put me on shipwide?” Uhura was on alpha shift as normal, so now she’s likely sitting in her cabin in the dark. Kirk probably has a slew of calls waiting to come through to his console asking what was going on, but because the screen isn’t working, he can’t see.

“I know you like to be in the thick of it when things hit,” McCoy says next to him, “but you really can’t do anything except sit tight and let people do their job.”

Kirk moves his arm and makes contact with Bones shoulder, but doesn’t allow it to turn into anything else. He doesn’t have a problem with the dark, but all the same, having him there is comforting. Plus he now has permission to touch, the thought of which brings a smile to his face. It widens when he feels an answering grasp of his arm, before McCoy slides it down to clasp his hand.

“Putting you through to ship-wide, sir,” comes Rifat’s crisp voice.

It takes only a minute to explain what he knows to his crew and to suggest avoiding moving around unless absolutely necessary.

“Better talk to M’Benga,” McCoy says, releasing his hand and brushing past him. At least there's an upside to darkness now they could have extra physical contact. Kirk begins to worry that his friend will be called away and he’ll be stuck on his own, in the dark, with Spock’s furniture and half his art collection here for nothing.

As it turns out, after his inquiries, only a few people have shown up in sickbay with a few slips, trips and sprains, and as much as they can, the staff are dealing with it and, no – his help isn’t needed.

“So what now?” McCoy asks.

Kirk leans against his desk, his hips brushing McCoy’s, sending a little frisson through him. “We wait for Scotty, I guess.” He wants to wrap his arms around Bones and just embrace him, but he knows his own nature well enough to realize he’ll find it almost impossible to just stop at that. It’s all too new and intense.

“Got any candles?”

Kirk laughs. “Candles, Bones? On a starship? You old romantic! No, but I might have a flashlight somewhere.” He moves around his desk and goes through the drawers but can’t find anything. Gingerly, he makes his way to another set of drawers and starts searching that. “Bones, can you go check in my bedroom – the bureau and the nightstand?”

“All right. If I can find my…shit, fuck…”

“Language Bones!” Jim grins. “Remember you’re mom’s on board.”

“Piss off.”

Jim’s grin broadens. He reaches the drawers and just as he’s pulling the first out, the comm. whistle goes. Blundering his way back to his desk, he only just remembers in time to circumnavigate Spock’s wooden table and smiles in self-congratulation. The whistle sounds again.

“All right: I'm coming! Fuck!” he squawks as he goes sprawling, tripping over something that isn’t normally there. At least with Bones in the bedroom, he can’t admonish him back for his language. To be on the safe side, he crawls the last meter to his desk on his knees and standing up, hits the button angrily.

It had better be Scotty after all that. “Kirk here.”

“Jim? It’s Carol.”

Kirk pulls a face. Why now, of all times? “What do you want, Lieutenant?”

“You know I don’t like the dark, Jim.”

He feels his whole body tense. “We agreed you wouldn’t contact me unless it’s ship’s business, Lieutenant.”

She ignores the comment. “Can I come to your quarters?”

This is what he’s been dreading in the back of his mind. He should never have let Spock talk him into taking her on. “No, you can’t. Once Scotty fixes the lights, I’ve got guests this evening. And you agreed we’d keep our interactions strictly professional.”

“Jim,” Bones raised voice comes from the bedroom. “There’s nothing here except four bottles of lube—” Kirk slams his finger to the mute button on the comm. unit. “—and a dildo. Seriously Jim? You were using a dildo?”

Jim feels his face flood – he forgot about that. “Try the other drawers, Bones,” he calls back.

“But Jim, I’m scared. You could hold me and make me feel safe,” Carol’s voice insists.

Fuck. “You can’t come round. You ended it and it stays ended. Besides, things have changed for me.”

“Jim.” Kirk hits the mute again at Bones’ call. He doesn’t want Bones coming back and hearing Carol. His friend was clearly surprised earlier at his comment that he hadn’t slept with any of his crew. The last thing he needs is Bones to think he’s been lying.

“I’m telling you there isn’t one here.” McCoy’s sounds exasperated.

“You sure?”

“Of course I’m sure,” Carol answers, and Kirk realizes in his distracted state he’s let go of the mute button.

“I wasn’t talking to you. Look, I’ve got to go. Don’t call me again. I mean it.” He hopes his command tone will work on her.

“Who was that?” McCoy asks, the sound of his voice telling Kirk he is back in lounge area.

“Just someone from sciences,” he half-lies. He’s not going to let Carol fuck things up with Bones before it’s even properly started. “Did you find the flashlight?” he asks, hoping to distract him from asking more questions.

“I can’t find anything in this.” There’s a bang. “Shit! Who put that fucking couch there?”

Kirk sighs and is about to answer when the door chimes. He’s not expecting his guests to turn up in the dark and if it’s Carol, he’ll personally throttle her.

Trying to make his way over to the door with various pieces of furniture in the way could be difficult, so he calls ‘enter’, knowing the computer will automatically open the door to whoever it is.

“Captain?” Relief floods through Kirk at the sound of Uhura’s voice. She isn’t on duty, though it may be an official call; unlikely with the comm. systems working, he decides.

“Uhura?”

“Captain…Jim… You asked earlier if I wanted to come over…” She sounds hesitant and he had asked her. “I’m kinda not comfortable on my own in the dark,” she adds quietly.

She declined his original invitation as she was helping set up the main mess hall for the Christmas party. Obviously that isn’t happening right now. The problem is that it was after that, he’d had his grand idea to borrow Spock’s furniture and art. Now Uhura’s here, when the lights came back on, she’s going to see it. On the other hand, he couldn’t very well put her off, especially as she was sounding so vulnerable, which was a first.

“Sure, come in.” He tries to make his tone welcoming. “I don’t think the soiree I planned is going to happen after all.”

“Any idea what’s happened?”

“Yeah, in case you haven’t noticed,” McCoy cut in, “the lights aren’t working.”

“Yikes, Leonard, you made me jump!”

Kirk hears Bones chuckle. “Scotty’s on the case, Uhura. He’ll report back once he’s figured out what’s going on.”

“I hate this.” Uhura says, despondent.

“I’m wondering if Mendez and my mom will still show. Maybe we should comm. them to put them off.”

McCoy’s navigated his way from the entrance to the bedroom to where Kirk is standing by his desk. “I don’t know, Bones. Maybe there’s safety in numbers. Let them come if they want.”

With Uhura here, he needs to know how long the outage is going to last and leans over his console. “Kirk to engineering.”

“Nothing further to report, sir. We’re running tests on every system, but diagnostics is challenging when we’ve got no read-outs. We’re having to get the computer to verbally provide us with the data, but getting it to do it in a meaningful form has proved challenging. Commander Spock’s been working on that.”

Well, knowing Spock is tied up is good news, Kirk thinks with relief. No chance he’ll be stopping off here any time soon.

“Okay, I’ll keep checking in periodically. Kirk out.”

“Uhura, you don’t by any chance have a flashlight, do you?”

“If I did, I wouldn’t be here. You could try asking Spock,” she suggests.

“It’s the kind of thing the hobgoblin would have.”

“Leonard!” Uhura’s admonishes.

“Kirk to Spock.”

“Ensign Wang here, sir. Mr. Spock’s currently in the zero gravity chamber carrying out some delicate work on the sensor array. Is it urgent?”

“No. Don’t disturb him. Kirk out.”

“Well, I guess there’s one way to find out if he's got a flashlight – I’ll go see…Shit!” He’s walked right into the idlomput and banged his right knee hard.

“Are you okay Jim?” Uhura asks.

“I knew it. This is going to be the worst Christmas Eve ever…Ooof! Shit! Who moved the fucking bathroom door?” Now his left shoulder and his knee hurt.

+

In the darkness, McCoy shakes his head. “Don’t be such a baby, Jim.” Arms outstretched, the doctor makes his way over to the large couch.

“He seems a bit rattled,” Uhura says. “I mean apart from this…” he imagines her waving her arm expansively about her, “…is there anything else bothering him? Like the mission?”

“Not the mission specifically. Jim wants to make a good impression with the commodore. And with my mom.”

“Your mom I can understand, but why the commodore?”

McCoy debates revealing his thoughts on the matter and figures Uhura’s a friend to them both and very discreet.

“Jim thinks it’s a good idea to have as many allies as he can at StarFleet HQ and any time he can, he works on building his network,” McCoy explains.

“Don’t tell me he still thinks he got his command through luck and being in the right place at the right time,” Uhura asks incredulously.

Uhura always was perceptive, McCoy thinks. “He knows he does a good job, but he doesn’t know how many people who matter know that. So any time he meets one of the Powers That Be, he does his best to create a good impression.”

“Makes sense.”

“You should have seen him with Admiral Na’aVeth when we had that layover at Starbase 9. I’ve never seen him so deferential.”

“We work in a political organization, Leonard,” Uhura points out

“Yeah well, I’ve never been able to stomach all the politicking.”

“So did it pay off?”

“It did, apparently. Turns out Na’aVeth was one of George Kirk’s friends at the Academy; he shared some stories with Jim. He came back from that meeting looking more than a bit quiet and misty-eyed. They hit it off and I think it did Jim good to hear some of the more normal stuff his dad got up to while he was a cadet. All everyone ever talks about is his heroics.”

McCoy’s finding Spock’s sofa very comfortable and slides down it into a sprawl.

“So now he’s working on the Commodore?”

“Supposed to be. We were going to have dinner here, though I don’t know how it was going to go. Mendez is stone deaf and his hearing implant’s been malfunctioning intermittently – Keener’s been working on it today. When he beamed up, the commodore’s assistant suggested yelling his welcome aboard. My mom, who’d beamed up with him, found it quite amusing watching Jim and Spock shouting at him.”

“Spock shouted?”

“Well, no, not exactly. I guess ‘raised his voice’ would be more accurate. With this blackout, I guess the meal’s off. I wonder what’s causing it. Maybe we’ve been sucked into a black hole.”

“Don’t say that – not even in jest,” she admonishes. He can almost hear her shudder. Not surprising since their only other experience of one was with the Narada.

McCoy rises and carefully walks over to the console. “McCoy to Scott.”

“Hey doc. Everything all right?”

“Yeah, just sitting here twiddling my thumbs. Was wondering if you’ve got any more news for us?

“Sorry, we’re trying every bloody thing we can think of to create lights for everyone to use, but no luck so far.”

Bones gets a sinking feeling. “Have you tried flashlights?”

“Bugger! And here we are, a hundred and twelve engineers running around like bloody dingbats, bumping into fuck-knows-what, trying to find a workable solution. And there it was, staring at us in the face all the time. Flashlights.” He sounds amused.

McCoy grins. “Okay, I get your point.”

“Can I speak to the captain? I’ve got a wee update of sorts.”

“He’s not here right now. He’s in Spock’s quarters, looking for….a flashlight.”

The engineer laughs. “Well, he’s wasting his time. Get him to call me when he finds his way back.”

“Willdo. McCoy out.”

“He sounds stressed. Looks like they’ve got quite a challenge. I wish there was something I could do to help,” Uhura says.

“Yeah, well luckily there’s nothing wrong with communications. Want a drink? Jim’s got whiskey, Andorian ale, some god-awful muck he got given on that mission to Gamma Scorpii, wine—”

“Leonard, you know I don’t drink!" she tuts. “My dad’s a minister and strongly disapproves of alcohol.”

“Can’t stop a guy from trying!”

Uhura laughs. “You just want to see me drunk. Well it’s not going to happen!”

McCoy’s about to reply when the door chime sounds. As he’s still beside the console he uses the intercom to find out who’s there. “Hello?”

“Leonard, is that you?”

“Mother! What are you doing here? Come in.” A press of the button and door slides silently open.

“Captain?”

“He’s not here – he’ll be back in a minute.” McCoy makes his way over to the door to guide her in.

“What’s going on, Bubba?”

He winces. He does not need his co-workers hearing his childhood pet-name.

“Please don’t call me that in public. We’re not sure what the cause is – engineering’s working on it. How did you find your way here?” He’s puzzled as the guest quarters are located on a different level. Even he’s not sure he could find his way to her room in the dark.

“The computer guided me, of course.” Of course. He’d like to think he would have thought of that in her place. Having located her, he takes her by the elbow to guide her to one of the chairs – if he can remember their positions. “I didn’t see any point sitting alone in my cabin,” she continues as they slowly move forward. “Most of the rest of the diplomatic team were due to take over one of the briefing rooms for some kind of festive gathering. I’ve no idea if they’ve gone ahead. But I declined their invitation as I was supposed to be having dinner here.”

McCoy definitely remembers the location of one of the chairs and turning his mother, gently pushes her back into it.

“What the…!” comes Uhura’s surprised voice.

“Oh my goodness! Who’s that?” Leonora almost screeches.

Leonard is standing there, confused. What the hell just happened?

“This seat’s already taken,” Uhura says, sounding more amused than shocked.

The penny drops. He assumed Uhura was sitting on the couch from the direction of her voice. But the chair’s right next to it, so it’s perhaps not surprising he misjudged. “Ah, sorry. Mother, this is Lieutenant Uhura, our communications officer.”

“Oh, good evening, Lieutenant.”

“Hello Mrs. McCoy,” greets Uhura. “I’m taking refuge here – I’m not very good in the dark.”

“So, where’s the captain? These are his quarters, aren’t they? I fully expected him to have some kind of light in here: he is in charge, after all.”

McCoy’s heart sinks: she’s clearly in one of her hard-to-please moods. Jim’ll have to work that much harder if he wants to win her round. He knows before he even gives her his answer, what her response will be. “He went to his First Officer’s quarters next door, trying to find a flashlight.”

“He doesn’t have one of his own?”

Damn. McCoy tries not to sound exasperated. “Believe it or not, this isn’t something that has happened before. Usually one of the emergency lighting back-up systems comes online if the power gets knocked. We don’t know why none of them are working this time.”

“I see…no organization. Bad sign.”

The only person who gets to be critical of Jim is him, but he tries not to sound too defensive. “It’s not his fault. These ships are usually pretty robust.”

“Whatever. Seems to me he runs this ship on a lick and a promise. He couldn’t even arrange for someone to carry my bags. You’re a doctor, not a bellhop.”

“That’s because I told Jim I’d take your luggage and see you to your room. Now come and sit down and rest a spell.” He tries to guide her towards the sofa when he collides with the idlomput with a muffled oof, biting his tongue on the swear-word that wants to escape.

“What’s this?” Leonora asks.

With Uhura sitting there, he’s got to be careful what he says. “Oh just something Jim picked up on our travels.”

“Wow!” Uhura exclaims, making McCoy jump. Her voice is definitely not coming from the direction he expects. She must have left the seat so his mom could sit there. “I didn’t know Jim had one of these. I can feel it – it’s just like the Vulcan idlomput Spock has in his cabin.”

“Really? It must be worth a fortune, now. He obviously has good taste in rare artifacts.” McCoy manages to find the couch and gently pushes his mother down onto it. If he didn’t have an ulcer by the end of this evening, he’d be surprised.

“Oh!” Uhura’s voice is coming from a different direction now.

“What?” he asks, afraid to hear the answer.

“This chair. It’s—”

“Jim found some country and western music in his collection, mother. I’ll put it on for you.”

As Dolly Parton’s voice fills the cabin, Bones leans down where he’s pretty sure Uhura is and whispers, “You’re a good sport, aren’t you?”

“The captain’s got Spock’s stuff here?” she whispers back. “Does he even know?” She sounds properly scandalized. Probably because she already knows the answer to that question.

“Uh…no.”

“But why? He has no right to steal Spock’s personal belongings!”

He knows Uhura’s got a good point, but Jim’s his best friend and soon-to-be lover, so he’ll still try to defend him. “It seemed like a good idea at the time. Jim wanted to make a good impression on my mom. He thought it might help her see past his reputation, as someone more cultured.”

“Isn’t that a bit deceitful, given that he’s not?”

McCoy feels indignation on Jim’s behalf. “Just because he doesn’t go out and buy this stuff, doesn’t mean he doesn’t have an appreciation of it.” He could tell her about the time he’d mentioned to Jim he likes sunflowers and for his next birthday, Jim paid a private transporter company to beam them to Paris, where they visited the Musée D’Orsay whose collection includes one of Van Gogh’s original sunflower paintings, before having dinner on the banks of the Seine. But he won’t, because actually a lot of the stuff he and Jim have done he considers private and he jealously guards.

“If Spock knew anyone had touched his artifacts, he’d be pissed. In his own Vulcan way, of course. And as for the idlomput – it’s the most precious thing he owns now that Vulcan’s gone. It’s irreplaceable.”

“Oh, that was a lovely song,” Leonora says, oblivious to the discussion going on between the room’s other occupants. “I’ve not heard it in years.”

“You know it’s not my cup of tea,” McCoy tells his mother, then turns back to Uhura and whispers, “Look, it was only going to be for an hour. We’ll put it back as soon as Jim gets back.”

“I don’t know why I’m agreeing but, okay…Bubba!”

Even though she’s whispering, he can hear the laughter in her voice as he grinds his teeth. “I’m going to let that slide, Nyota, because we need your co-operation.” Then out loud he adds, “How about a drink Uhura – oh, no you don’t. Can I get you something else – I'm pretty sure Jim’s got lemonade.”

“Lemonade would be fine, thanks.”

“Mom,” McCoy raises his voice. “Drink? Jim’s got in something special you’ll like.”

“Oh a surprise! Yes!”

Before McCoy can move, there’s a clatter and a muffled ‘shit’ coming from the direction of the bathroom.

“Jim?”

“Yeah, no luck, Bones. If he’s got a flashlight, I don’t know where it is. I actually found some real candles, but nothing to light them with. Did you hear any more from Scotty?”

“Yeah, about that. Apparently flashlights aren’t working either. And before you ask, he didn’t give any indication when things would be fixed.”

“That’s not a lot of help. No damn lights when I’m supposed to be schmoozing a deaf commodore and entertaining your monster mom.”

Shit! McCoy thinks. Too late.

“Good evening, Captain.”

 

The sound of Leonora McCoy’s voice coming at him in the darkness of his quarters makes Kirk jump. Why the fuck didn’t he warn him? Way to go, Bones.

Before he can answer, McCoy jumps in. “Jim, you didn’t get a chance to meet my mother, Leonora, in the transporter room this morning.”

Feeling wildly embarrassed Kirk stutters over his words. “Well….er….good evening, ma’am. Who would have thought you were there all the time? I…er…well.”

“Well, says Leonora.”

“Well,” McCoy seems to parrot. “So—”

“Don’t call me ma’am, Captain. It makes me sound old. You seem to be having some problems with your ship.”

“Yeah, we never know what we’re going to run into out here in deep space.”

“Well I trust you will find a means to rectify it promptly, Captain. Leonard, show me the way to the bathroom.”

“Ah, Jim. I forgot. Scotty asked you to call him when you got back. Mother, give me your hand and I’ll guide you there.”

"Kirk to engineering."

“Aye sir.” Kirk recognizes that tone of voice. It doesn’t speak of good things. “Do you have an update yet, Scotty?”

“No sir. We’ve not come close to resolving this ruddy problem. I’m inclined to think it’s something external.”

“External? How do you mean?”

“Spock and his team were in the middle of star-mapping when we went dark. On a hunch – and don’t tell the commander I said that; he’d probably give you a ton of data for the reason why he went and checked – he’s discovered it’s completely black outside, not a single star shining out there”

“No stars in this sector?” Kirk clarifies.

“Oh, there’s stars all right, we’ve been using a subspace frequency as a sonar and there are definite masses out there the size of stars, they’re just not emitting any light.”

“We’re in some kind of black hole?” Even as he asks, he knows what the answer will be.

“No, sir. We’re in normal space, other than it’s dark. We’d have detected a black hole long before we came anywhere near it.”

“An alternate universe? One where stars don’t shine?” Kirk’s running out of ideas.

“I can’t see how we could have slipped into an alternate reality, sir, when you consider what it took for the Narada to come through.”

That’s true, Kirk concedes. And there weren’t any anomalies reported immediately before the lights went out. “Speculation?”

“Hard to say. It’s like there’s something out there that’s sucked all the light out of everything. We’re fixing up the computer to work through the sensors to see what radiation’s out there. I’ll bet my right arm it’ll detect heat from those stars, just no light.”

Kirk is impressed so much is being done in complete darkness, by feel only. He’s reminded yet again, of the high caliber of his crew. A thought comes to him. “If it is external, how come the Potemkin never reported it when it was on its way to make First Contact with Maralavia?”

“I wondered the same thing. According to computer records, the Potemkin approached the Hydra Sygnii system from Sector 677 and I’m guessing they by-passed this region on the way back, too.”

“You think it’s worth backtracking and seeing if we can find a way around, take the same route they did?”

“Thing is, we might be almost through it – we just don’t know. And going back and taking the same heading in as the Potemkin will delay us by at least a day, maybe longer.”

“Out of the question!” Leonora says beside him, startling Kirk. He hadn’t realized she was back from the bathroom. “We’re already behind schedule thanks to the failure of the Potemkin, and having to divert to Deep-Space 34. I am certain Commodore Mendez will be expecting you to make up some of the time, not add to the delay.”

Way to add pressure, Kirk thinks resentfully. He considers the situation. Obviously whatever it is they’re in, is finite, since this heading takes them straight to Hydra Sygnii and Maralavia, where no unusual anomalies have been reported.

“So right now we have no idea how long this blackout will last? Is there any way to calculate it?”

“That we’re also trying to figure out now, sir. Once we’ve jury-rigged the sensors to hook up to the computer and create a program that’ll interpret the streams of data into something that’s verbally meaningful, we might have an idea.”

“Okay, well keep me posted. Just make sure while you’re rigging things up, no-one does anything that could put them in any danger.””

“Aye sir.”

“And Scotty – let everyone know they’re doing a great job.

“Aye, that I will, sir. Scott out.”

“Well, at least we’re pretty certain it’s not the ship,” Kirk emphasizes. “Sounds like it’s the space we’re in.

“In the meantime you’ve got no lights that work, if I am correct?” Leonora points out.

“Er…correct.” He wonders where she’s going with this. Wherever it is, he’s got a strong feeling he’s not going to like it.

“And no-one on this ship has figured out how to get around this, correct?”

“Correct,” he responds weakly. Why did she have to be Bones’ mom? Anyone else, and he’d be telling them, politely, to fuck off.

“So no basic efficiency, correct?”

She is going too far and he doesn’t care if he sounds defensive. “I wouldn’t say that exactly. We’ve got some of the best minds in—”

“By basic efficiency, young man, to use a military analogy, I mean the simple state of being At Attention in life, rather than At Ease, understand?”

“Well, I’m certainly not at ease,” he mumbles, wondering why Bones isn’t stepping in to defend his honor.

“So what are you going to do about it?”

Thankfully she didn’t hear his comment.

“Do, ma…er…Mrs. McCoy?” He’s gotten her handle. She may be an archaeologist, but she was born to be in StarFleet and would probably be an Admiral by now, if she’d followed that path. Barnett would love her. Maybe that’s why she’s been called on this mission – perhaps her reputation precedes her.

“Don’t echo me, young man, I don’t like it.”

“You don’t like it – I’m sorry.” The devil in him is fighting to get out but he holds it back valiantly, because this is too important to fuck up. Regardless of how rude she is being, this is Bones’ mom and he intends to make every effort to get her onside. Even though he’s on a slippery slope right now, he’s the non-believer of no-win scenarios and knows he can pull her round. He just isn’t sure how, at this point.

“This is an emergency – anyone can see that.” Her tone changes from one of admonishment to more lecturing, continuing in the patronizing mold. He grits his teeth as the devil pushes at his barriers.

“No-one can see anything, that’s the emergency!”

“Spare me your humor, Captain, if you don’t mind. Let’s look at the situation objectively, right?”

“Mother…”

Finally, Kirk thinks, relieved that Bones is stepping in. He moves towards his voice.

“Hush Bubba and hear me out.”

Bubba? In the darkness, Kirk grins as McCoy makes a strangled sound.

“So, Problem: darkness. Solution: Light.”

“Okay…”

“Weapons: No flashlights, and candles – but no lighter. What remains?”

Kirk’s trying not to laugh. Some of the finest minds in StarFleet are on this ship, and as specialists in their fields, have yet to come up with a solution. He honestly can’t think how to answer her question. “Um…?”

“Chemical lights. Surely you have them in your emergency packs?”

“Right, chemical lights. Awesome.”

“But—” Bones begins, but Kirk pinches him hard. “Ow!”

Dolly Parton is belting out ‘Working Nine to Five’ over the top of this discussion, so he hopes Bones’ cry of pain isn’t picked up. Because he’s just had one of his moments of brilliance, realizing he can use the cover of going to engineering to get Spock’s furniture back to his quarters undetected.

“Where do you keep them?” she pushes, obviously not willing to let the matter drop.

“Er…engineering will definitely have some.”

“Then what are you waiting for?”

Despite his best effort, his little devil makes its appearance. “Thank you. Your clarity of mind has saved the day.”

“So, jump to it, Captain. I’ll make myself comfortable in this nice chair.”

“Right ma…er…Mrs. McCoy – I’ll be back in a few minutes.”

The moment the words have left his lips, the door chime sounds. Maybe it’s Mendez. “Enter.”

“Captain?” Out of the darkness comes the clear dulcet tones of his First Officer.

Jim turns to Bones and whispers in the approximate place his ear should be. “Fuck – what’s he doing up here?”

“Shit,” is McCoy’s highly articulate, whispered response. Well, that’s no help, Kirk thinks.

“His stuff – what are we going to do?” Kirk reminds McCoy.

“Captain – are you all right?” Even though Spock’s voice sounds its normally well-modulated self, in the dark, Kirk can pick up a slight tone of concern in it. Ordinarily, he’d be pleased to know Spock cares about him. Not on this occasion, however.

“Yes, fine. Other than we can’t see fu…er… anything.”

“It is somewhat disconcerting. Fortunately my eidetic memory allows me a perfect internal map for me to navigate the ship without incident.”

In the silence between one song and the next, everyone hears the bang that follows Spock’s words, and Kirk realizes the Vulcan’s just tripped over his idlomput.

“What—?” the Vulcan begins.

“Spock.” Kirk grabs him by the arm and pulls him out of the path of the statue. “So, what brings you up here?” Spock snatches his arm back, but Kirk’s certain he’s now out of peril’s way. “I thought you were helping Scotty, working on the sensors.”

“Indeed I was. However, Mr. Scott made it clear my assistance is no longer required. I have done all that I am able.”

Kirk’s heart sinks. This is going to be a lot tougher with Spock in the room. He can’t get rid of him, because he’ll go back to his own quarters and find them filled with his own crappy furniture. He has no choice but to try to keep Spock here until he’s got the furniture back. “Oh. Well sit down and tell us how it’s going.”

“Us?”

“I left you a message telling you I’m here,” Uhura says from somewhere to Kirk’s right. He’s got to memorize where everyone is if this is to work. Easy enough – his memory’s excellent, except that people, unlike the furniture, have a tendency to move around.

“I have yet to return to my quarters. I am gratified to know you have not been alone without light.”

“You’re the Vulcan Bubba’s mentioned.”

Kirk holds back a snigger at the use of the pet-name. He dreads to think what McCoy’s said to her about Spock.

“Bubba?” Spock asks.

Since Bones remains steadfastly silent to Spock’s innocent query – though McCoy audibly grinds his teeth – Kirk makes the introductions. “May I present my First Officer, Commander Spock – Mrs. McCoy."

“Greetings’ ma’am.”

“May I say, Commander, that the loss of your planet, of almost the entire Vulcan population, is an inestimable tragedy. I grieve with thee.”

Leonora’s tone of voice, Kirk is shocked to hear, could not be more different to that used with him. She sounded absolutely genuine and heartfelt in her expression.

“Your sentiment is appreciated, ma’am.”

“Leonora – Please call me Leonora, Mr. Spock.”

Kirk bristles at the request, since he hasn’t been accorded the right to use her first name.

“As you wish, Leonora. I believe I also heard Doctor McCoy’s teeth grinding.”

“And will continue to as long as my mother carries on embarrassing me by using a pet-name given to me at the age of three in front of my co-workers.”

Kirk definitely detected a note of amusement in Spock’s voice. He’s finding it interesting how without the usual cues of visual body language, he’s having to rely on the nuances of tone instead, and seems to be picking up so much more than he normally does, which is a helpful skill right now. He suspects Uhura’s able to do that all the time and makes a note to ask her about it at some point.

“I don’t suppose you have a flashlight, Mr. Spock?”

“I do possess one, located in my quarters. However, whatever is divesting this ship of light, also affects independent electrical devices such as flashlights.”

Kirk wonders where on earth Spock keeps it as he thought he’d gone through everything looking for it.

“What about candles?”

“Likewise candles.”

Jim has a thought and moves the bowl he’d placed on the table earlier, to under it. “Let’s have drinks now we’re all here.”

“I already have mom’s and Nyota’s orders,” Bones chimes in. “Spock?”

“Perhaps later. I am going to my quarters and will return shortly.”

Kirk feels a rising panic. “No…I mean…why not stay here, it’s safer than moving around in the dark.”

“I have already explained my eidetic memory provides me with a special awareness that allows me to move around in safety.”

“Just stay for a drink and then go.”

There’s a pause while Spock considers Kirk’s offer, and he holds his breath waiting to see what fate will deal him. She hasn’t been too kind up to now.

“Very well.”

Kirk closes his eyes momentarily in silent thanks for an answered prayer. “I picked up some stilka juice for you at DS-34. I hear you might like it.” After what old Spock told him about its effect on Humans, he read up on it and found out it can give a wicked high. He’ll have to try it next time they have shoreleave.

“Indeed?” Spock sounds intrigued and Kirk is certain he can guess the source of the tip. “That is acceptable – I have never had occasion to taste stilka juice.”

“I’m on it,” McCoy says. Since his friend’s standing a lot closer to his liquor cabinet than he is, he leaves him to it.

The problem with it being dark is that McCoy can’t see what it is he’s pouring. That’s why Uhura gets stilka, Spock gets chocolate liqueur and Leonora gets Romulan ale. He pours himself a bourbon and gets that right, but then again, he’d recognize the shape of the bottle with his eyes closed, which they effectively are.

“May I remind you, Captain, you were on your way to engineering for assistance.”

“Ah yes, I forgot.”

“Now that you have been reminded, you have no reason not to leave immediately.”

Kirk tends to react badly to pushy people, but this is Bones’ mom, he reminds himself, yet again. He needs to tell McCoy his plan so he can cover him, but has no idea where he is in the room.

“Bones, can I have a word with you? In private.”

“I’m here, Jim.”

Aha, somewhere to his left. “Excuse us a moment, please,” he says and gabbing McCoy’s hand, pulls him towards the bedroom.

“Well, this is a novel experience,” Uhura says as they depart.

“Indeed.”

“Do you know what we’re going to do?” Jim whispers.

“Kiss?” McCoy asks, a hopeful note in his voice.

Kirk leans forward and gently touches their lips. “That’s it for now. So, my question.”

“I haven’t the foggiest,” McCoy says and slides his arms around Kirk, bringing their bodies into a gentle embrace. He then begins to nibble at Kirk’s neck.

“Cut that out!” Kirk whispers urgently. He really doesn’t need distractions now when they need to formulate a plan, as good as it feels.

“Is Kirk actually capable of commanding this ship?” Leonora asks, clearly having no idea where he is and that he can hear her.

“He is an adequate Captain,” Spock replies.

“Adequate? Says it all.”

Kirk rolls his eyes and feels McCoy squirm, probably in embarrassment at his mom. He reaches round and gives Bones’ ass a reassuring squeeze. What he’d like to do is tighten their embrace and kiss the daylights out of him, but not with a room full of people next door.

“He’s the best captain I’ve served with,” Uhura responds.

Kirk feels a moment of surprise until Leonora asks, “And how many would that be?”

“Well, just him,” she admitted. “But I know from hearing other crews speak – Captain Kirk is very good at his job.”

“Really?” There’s a disbelieving tone to her voice. Regardless of her incredulity, Kirk still feels a moment of pride at Spock and Uhura’s words. After all, ‘adequate’ is high praise from a Vulcan.

He needs to focus on the matter at hand. “We’re going to have to put all Spock’s stuff back in his cabin before the lights come back.”

“Now?” McCoy sounds surprised. Kirk isn’t sure why he is, because when else did he think they were going to do it?

“It’s the perfect time. Your mom’s convinced there’s some form of light that will work – she was in the bathroom when Scotty told us he’s tried everything. Spock wasn’t here for that discussion so he doesn’t know to correct her assumption, and he’s not going to know the reason I’m apparently going to engineering. We don’t know how long this blackout’s going to last. So I want to get all Spock’s stuff back to his quarters before the lights come back, because if he finds out what I’ve done, he’ll do that choking thing on me again and his dad won’t be around to stop him!”

“Bubba?” Leonora calls.

Jim sniggers, which earns him a punch in his arm.

“Fuck, if she wasn’t my mother, I’d strangle her.”

Jim’s still grinning, finding the whole pet-name thing hugely amusing – especially as it’s embarrassing the hell out of Bones – and sees months….years, even, he amends to himself…of awesome teasing ahead. “Bubba? Really?”

McCoy predictably ignores him. “Can’t you tell Spock it was a joke?”

“Bones, this is Spock we’re talking about here. He’d call me on it and your mom already seems to have a low opinion of me. It would make things even worse.”

“Captain Kirk!” Leonora calls.

“Well, how the hell are we going to do it?” McCoy asks, ignoring his mom’s call and sounding deeply pissed off. Kirk thinks he’s probably remembering some of the shenanigans he’s roped him into in the past; though to be fair, they were usually drunk as skunks at the time. His favorite was waking up in the trunk of the car he’d borrowed from one of the other cadets (because that was a safer place to sleep than attempting to drive back to campus while under the influence, right?) and Bones had apparently passed out on someone’s lawn next to the car, pantless and handcuffed to a naked woman neither of them recognized. Pike had put them on curfew for a month after that one.

“Look, you hold the fort,” Jim suggests. “Keep serving them drinks and keep things going. I’ll try and put everything back under cover of darkness.”

“I don’t see how this can work!”

“It has to! I don’t see any other alternatives.” Bones could be so defeatist, he thinks to himself.

“Captain Kirk!” Leonora yells this time. He wonders whether she thinks they’ve gone out into the corridor.

“I’ll be out in a moment, Mrs. McCoy.”

“He’s acting very oddly,” she says, not particularly quietly.

“Trust me, Bones.” It’s probably not the best thing he could have said, as those words had prefaced a number of events that his friend would probably prefer to forget ever happened. He presses another kiss to Bones’ lips in an attempt at reassurance and pulls out of the embrace.

As they leave the bedroom, Jim gives Bones’ ass a little pat before making a detour around the couch towards the door to his quarters, forgetting the idlomput which he promptly trips over, falling on his ass.

“Are you all right?” Uhura asks at the sound of him hitting the deck.

“Yeah, I’m a bit clumsy in the dark. Right, I’m off now, Mrs. McCoy – hopefully I’ll be back with something shortly.”

“Well hurry up – I’m finding sitting in the dark tiresome.”

“Bones…er…Leonard will give you drinks.”

“Since I am able to find my way around Captain,” Spock chimes in from where he’s sitting beside Uhura on the couch, “I suggest I accompany you.”

“No!” he says louder than he meant to. Calming his voice, he adds, “I mean… I’ll be fine. I might not have quite your memory, but I do know this ship like the back of my hand.”

Before Spock can argue, he stands within sensor range causing the door to open and with a quick ‘back soon’ he noiselessly steps back into his cabin, so it shuts again. First, he has to remember where the chairs are.

“So another round of drinks?” Bones asks. “Same again for everyone?”

Kirk hears murmurs of assent before Leonora asks, “How do you do that in the dark?”

“I know Jim’s liquor cabinet as well as my own.”

The first chair presents a challenge as it’s somewhere near where Leonora is sitting. Fervently hoping no-one’s moved in the interim, he delicately heads towards her.

“I hear Commodore Mendez is a quarter Litharian,” Uhura says, closer to Kirk than he expected. “I wonder if he feels different to Humans. I mean his skin.”

“His skin?” Leonora asks, unknowingly right into Kirk’s face. Startled, he staggers back and falls neatly into the chair he was looking for. Pleased with his luck, he picks it up triumphantly.

“Litharians are reputed to have skin that feels soft like chamois leather.”

“Can’t say I noticed any difference in him when he came aboard. You’ll have to ask Jim – he shook his hand.”

“You are quite correct, Nyota. Your knowledge of xenobiology is excellent.”

“Thank you, Spock. I thought it was one of the most interesting courses outside of my own chosen discipline. I learned from my father when I was young that the spoken words are only a small fraction of the entire meaning that’s being conveyed. Understanding alien biology can make all the difference. Humans know that a dog wagging its tail is a sign it’s excited, where a cat flicking its tail is often a sign of annoyance. Knowing how aliens use their bodies to communicate is fundamental to understanding them.”

As she’s speaking Kirk lugs the chair slowly across what would be her field of vision if the lights were on, less than a quarter of a meter from her face. It’s both heavy and bulky and wanting to avoid where he thinks Spock is, he keeps close to the bulkhead and ends up bumping into Bones. Kirk hopes the music is enough to prevent anyone hearing the quiet scuffle which the doctor covers up with a cough, but in the process, he drops the chair onto his foot and it’s all he can do not to yell out. He picks it up and limps towards the bathroom.

“Are you all right, Bubba?”

“Yes fine,” McCoy replies, and Kirk can hear it’s through gritted teeth.

“Do you want a hand, Leonard?” Uhura asks.

“No! No, I’m good. You just stay right where you are.”

Good man, Kirk thinks. What he doesn’t want is them moving about the cabin.

Just when he thinks he’s made it, he misaims and instead of entering the bathroom, he bumps into the bulkhead and in so doing, hits the door control which causes it to silently slide closed. He sets the chair down in frustration.

“So, your father is a professional man?” Leonora asks.

“He’s a minister, Mrs. McCoy.”

“Ah, I see.”

Kirk knows from Bones, that his mother’s an atheist and prays she won’t say anything that might cause Uhura to have to defend her father’s chosen line of work. Groping frantically along the wall looking for the door control, he finally finds it and picking up the chair, staggers with it into the bathroom and through to Spock’s quarters. Putting it back where he remembers it goes, he returns with his old rocking chair and crosses the cabin gingerly to where Leonora is sitting.

“Does the captain have any ice?” Leonora asks.

“Yes, there’s some here. I’ll bring the bucket over.”

“No need for that,” she says. I’ll just bring my glass over.”

Kirk puts down the rocking chair next to the seat Leonora was sitting on and with a few deft moves, switches them, picking up Spock’s chair to take back to his cabin. Unknowingly, he follows her as she makes her way slowly towards McCoy and the ice bucket. He thinks about the bowl on the table and decides to take that on the same trip to save time. Meanwhile, she bumps into the table and as he’s sweeping the surface looking for the bowl, their hands narrowly miss. Realizing the table’s empty, he suddenly remembers he put the bowl underneath it. Kneeling down to retrieve it, he doesn’t realize he’s directly under the arch unconsciously provided by Bones and Leonora as she takes ice from the proffered bucket.

With the chair in one hand and the bowl in the other, Kirk triumphantly heads towards Spock’s cabin and returns a minute later.

“So where does your father preach, Lieutenant?” Leonora asks.

“He lives on a small Earth colony near Starbase 7. He does a good job there. I think we’re seeing a break-down in the fabric of society – so many young people are disaffected, leading aimless lives. When I first met the captain—"

“Uhura!” Bones interrupts her. “Can I get you another drink?” Kirk smiles in gratitude at the protectiveness of his friend.

“Thanks Leonard, same again. I don’t know what recipe’s been used, but that’s the best lemonade I’ve ever had.”

“Let me bring it to you,” Leonora suggests. During a lull in the music, the sound of a bottle clinking against glass is clearly audible, as is the glugging sound of the liquid as it fills the glass.

“Thank you Mrs. McCoy.”

“Please, call me Leonora, Lieutenant.”

“And my name’s Nyota.”

Kirk feels a prick of jealousy that she hands her name out to everyone but him. It’s become a standing joke among the bridge crew that she’s never given him permission to use her first name. Which isn’t fair because off-duty, she uses his freely.

“Yes, well, anyway, I’m glad my dad doesn’t have to see that. The colonists are all gentle, pious, hard-working people.” She obviously took Bones’ hint, because she doesn’t continue with the comment she was about to make.

Leonora sets out to find Uhura and at first, comes dangerously close to where Jim is standing, wondering how he’s going to get the table and couch out without Bones’ help.

“Indeed,” Spock agrees from his place beside Uhura on the couch, “there was a time, prior to the invention of labor-saving devices when the inhabitants of your planet had to work hard to live. Now it appears that everything is there for them – life is too easy, which frequently leads to boredom and a lack of direction at best, and illegal, thrill-seeking exploits at worst.

In the dark, Leonora changes direction, putting her hand out to see if she can locate Uhura, touching her head by accident.

“Oh,” she starts in surprise. She gets handed her drink. “Thank you, Leonora.

As Spock is talking, Leonora makes her way slowly back to the chair she thinks she was sitting on before, but which is now a rocker. Putting her drink on a small side table, she sits heavily in the rocking chair which overbalances backwards, spilling her onto the floor with an audible thump.

“Good grief!”

“Are you okay, mother?” McCoy says, he voice sounding concerned.

“Yes, yes, I’m fine. It’s a rocking chair. I’m sure I was sitting here before, but it definitely wasn’t on a rocking one!”

“Ah, I believe that chair is not in perfect condition. Indeed I have mentioned this to the captain on several occasions.”

Spock begins to describe a period in Vulcan history, rising from the couch and leaning against the table to tell his story more effectively. Meanwhile, Leonora seats herself carefully.

“I believe the gathering of the chiefs of the tribes would be similar to what Native Americans refer to as a pow-wow. It appeared that all the tribes were suffering similar issues, threatening a breakdown in the very fabric of Vulcan society.”

Kirk thinks Uhura stood up when she got her drink and believes the couch to be empty, but when he lifts the end of it, she gasps with the jolt.

“Exactly, Nyota. It is difficult to contemplate such an issue within modern Vulcan society.

“After much time deliberating, they could come to only one conclusion. Are you familiar with this period of Vulcan history, Nyota, to know what their solution was?”

“No, I’ve no idea.”

“They made the decision to return to war with each other.”

“You’re kidding!”

“Indeed not.”

Kirk wonders if this is the type of discussion they normally have in private when they’re alone together. He’s often wondered what they talk about. With Uhura on the couch, he decides to remove some of the artifacts and slowly heads towards the shelving unit where he put most of them. Unfortunately, he once again collides with the idlomput.

“What was that?”

“Sorry,” McCoy says, gallantly covering a grateful Kirk.

Spock seems to accept it and finishes his story. “So, as a result of that entirely illogical decision, the Vulcan population was decimated.”

“Shocking,” Leonora pronounces.

Kirk picks up a large bowl with a kind of pestle implement that’s decorated with a loosely-wound hemp-like cord and walks around Leonora’s rocking chair.

“That’s crazy!” Uhura says, clearly aghast. “Surely they could have figured a less violent solution.”

“These are not the Vulcans of today, Nyota. They were ruled by illogical impulses, and violent emotions.”

Kirk can still clearly recall Spock’s own violent emotion on the bridge during the Narada battle. Multiply that by a lot of Vulcans, and he can kind of see why Surak’s philosophy took hold.

Part of the hemp cord on the bowl has unwound and has trailed across the deck, following him round the bottom of the rocking chair. He’s unaware of this until it catches, so he tugs it gently, moving the chair in the process.

Surprised, Leonora jerks forward. Jim tugs it again, much harder. The rocking chair is pulled forward, spilling Leonora out of it again onto the deck with a surprised squawk, and then falling itself on top of her.

“Mother,” McCoy says, moving towards her. “Are you okay?”

As the doctor makes his way to his mother, Kirk gets to his knees and crawls past him across the room following the cord. He finds where it’s caught under the table and frees it, unaware how close he’s come to bumping into Spock until he hears the Vulcan shift his stance and practically leaps out of the way. Still on his knees, he retraces his steps, winding up the cord around his arm and becomes hopelessly entangled in it.

Leonora remains on the floor, with McCoy kneeling beside her. “I’m fine.” Standing, he helps his mother up into the chair.

“The chair is more unstable than I had realized,” Spock says.

“Can I get you another drink?” McCoy asks his mother.

“I would appreciate it, thank you.”

“Anyone else?”

“Refill for me,” Uhura says, “and one for Spock, too.”

“Thank you, Nyota.”

“Humans can be illogical and ruled by their emotions,” Uhura continues the previous discussion. “But I don’t think they’ve ever done anything that extreme.”

“As I have frequently pointed out, Vulcans are not Humans. Unchecked, Vulcan emotions are considerably more intense than those experienced by the people of Earth. What they came up with was a Vulcan solution that was commensurate with the culture and society of the time.”

Kirk sits on the floor and begins to unravel the cord to free himself.

“If that’s considered an appropriate solution, maybe it’s better if you Vulcans stick to your blasted logic,” McCoy says, “Here's your drink Spock.”

“Thank you, doctor.

“Mother, here’s yours.”

“And one for you, Uhura.”

“Thank you, Leonard.”

Other than the music playing, there’s a silence as everyone sips their drinks. Meanwhile, having freed himself, Kirk realizes he has lost the pestle from the artifact. On his knees, which are beginning to get sore from all the crawling around he’s having to do, he begins to look for it.

“I guess as an archaeologist, you’re quite interested in history, Leonora,” Uhura says into the silence.

“Yes I am, linking artifacts back to particular stages in a planet’s development is my area of specialty. I’m afraid my knowledge of Vulcan history is woefully inadequate, and most of their treasures have been lost, though a few have thankfully survived, like the sculpture I bumped into when I arrived.”

“What sculpture is that, Leonora?” Spock says.

“The one near the table close to the door. A very fine piece from what I could feel of it.”

“I was unaware the captain possessed any Vulcan artifacts.”

Kirk freezes and McCoy steps in. “Well, while we’ve all got drinks, I’d like to propose a toast to the diplomatic team – may their mission go smoothly.”

“I’ll drink to that!” Uhura says, and giggles.

“Indeed.”

 

Kirk stands and dumping the bowl on the table, quickly finds the idlomput, lugging it off to one side of the cabin. He then gets down on his hands and knees and begins his search for the missing pestle, tracing his steps back towards the rocking chair, triumphantly finding it a second before Leonora decides to get up and steps on his fingers.

“Ow, shit!” he exclaims, the pain too sharp for him to hold it in.

“What in tarnation are you doing down there, Captain?” Leonora asks, with what sounds like a slightly menacing tone.

“Well, I er…” He quickly crawls to the table and places the pestle with the bowl on the table, so they’re in one place.

“Did you get a light that works?”

“Um…I couldn’t find my chief engineer in the dark to ask.”

“It is my understanding, and I had thought the captain comprehended this, that no form of illumination is possible, therefore the errand was unnecessary. That aside, I am curious how the captain was able to visit engineering and return so promptly? It would be impossible to make that journey so swiftly.”

Damn that Vulcan and his inner time sense. “Well I did.”

“But it’s at the other end of this ship, Jim. What, did you run?” The thought clearly amuses Uhura as she giggles.

That's the second time he’s heard that uncharacteristic sound from her in the space of ten minutes and Kirk wonders whether Bones has spiked her lemonade.

“You know what they say, Uhura. Needs must when the devil drives.”

He quickly lifts the table – no mean feat on his own as it’s solid wood, complete with the wrecked artifact and disappears with them into the bathroom.

“There's something going on,” Leonora says, assuming Kirk’s still in the cabin. “I may not know about Vulcan history, Kirk, but I know men. I know a liar in the light, and I know one in the dark.”

“Mother! That’s a bit harsh.”

“I don’t want to doubt your word. All the same, I’d like your oath, as a StarFleet Captain, that you went all the way to engineering." When there's no answer, she prompts, "Well?”

“Jim,” McCoy says, raising his voice, undoubtedly aware that Kirk isn’t there. “Mother is talking to you.”

“Of course, I know,” Kirk says, rushing back into his cabin. “She’s absolutely right. I was...just thinking it over for a moment.”

“Well, what’s your answer?” Leonora presses.

He has no idea what the question was. “I couldn’t agree with you more, Mrs. McCoy.”

“What?” she says, clearly incredulous and certainly not expecting that confession.

“That was a very perceptive remark you made there. Not everyone would have thought of that. Individual. You know. Almost witty. Well, it was witty. Why be ungenerous?”

“Look young man, are you trying to be funny?”

“Well, I’ll try anything once!” he says, hoping his humor might soften her.

“Well, I—”

“Mother!” McCoy warns.

Kirk feels bad he’s inadvertently pitching son against mother.

“Quiet Bubba and let me handle this.”

Kirk recognizes the huff that comes from Bones at that. It’s the one he’s heard a few times, which tells him his friend’s at the end of his tether and liable to lose his temper. Kirk wants to find a way to diffuse the tension quickly. But first he needs to understand what he’s missed that’s caused this misunderstanding.

“I’m sorry – but what’s there to handle?”

“I don’t understand how my son can associate himself with a born liar! To think he’s agreed to be listed as your next of kin and you intend to buy a property with him.”

“Indeed?” Spock responds. “I was unaware of this decision.”

“I don’t think it’s appropriate to talk about the captain like that while you’re on his ship, McCoy says irritably.

Jim feels a warm feeling inside at his friend’s protectiveness, but stays silent, knowing Bones is far better at handling his mother.

“How dare you speak to your mother in that tone of voice.”

Well, maybe not.

“I’m thirty three years old – I’m not a child, so don’t talk to me like I am one.”

Uhura rises in agitation and makes her way over to the liquor cabinet, sniffing the drinks and quietly pouring herself some more stilka.

“Look, Mrs. McCoy, we seem to have gotten off on the wrong foot. If it's my fault, I apologize. And I’m sorry to you too, Spock. I was going to mention it to you – it’s not something we’re publicizing.”

“Evidently. When did you make the decision?”

Kirk winces. “A couple of months ago. You were the one person I was going to tell.”

“May I ask what reason prevented you from doing so until now?”

Is that a hurt tone to Spock’s voice? Kirk wonders incredulously. In the dark, he’s picking up all kinds of nuances, but it could be his imagination. Still, Spock hasn’t let it go, so it obviously matters. He thinks the Vulcan’s behaving atypically, and if he didn’t know better, would think he was drunk. But then again, maybe he has the right to be bit cheesed off as the two of them have become comfortable enough with each other to discuss more private matters over chess. Spock even recently confessed to seeing Jim as his closest male friend. Now Kirk feels like a heel. But he knows if he told Spock at the time, he would have asked a bunch of questions along the lines of ‘why’ and he didn’t want to reveal his romantic interest in Bones before he told the man himself. Bones, on the other hand, never questioned his suggestion and just thought it a practical arrangement for the two of them.

“I don’t know, I just never got around to it. You know how busy we’ve been.”

“Aside from the fact that you see me every day, in the period since you made your decision, we have played nine point five games of chess in the privacy of yours or my cabin, where you had ample opportunity to inform me, had you wished to do so.”

Okay, so maybe he is hurt then. Or pissed. It’s hard to tell with Spock.

“Uh…point five?”

“That was the game in which you discovered an allergy to an ingredient in the candy you purchased on Starbase 9. You will recall your tongue swelled substantially and we were forced to terminate the game.”

Oh yeah, he remembers that. “The candy had traces of citral in it for flavoring and I ended up spending the night in sickbay. You were thrashing me, so next time I asked us to start over,” he admits with a grin.

“As I say, you had ample opportunity.”

“I know.”

“Yet you did not.”

“I know.”

“It is your own concern. You are under no obligation to share details of your private life with me.”

Wow, he’s never known Spock to be like this. It’s making him feel bad and that’s making him feel defensive. “Oh don’t get all huffy, Spock.”

“Vulcans do not, as you say, get huffy, Captain,” he points out in a tone which was about as huffy as you can get. “I am merely highlighting an error in your reasoning.” Even in the dark, he can imagine Spock glaring at him.

This was the weirdest evening, ever.

“My father invented a great quote,” Uhura cuts in from the direction of the liquor cabinet. “'To err is human; to forgive divine’."

“There is nothing to forgive, Nyota,” Spock says, his voice tight.

“I thought somebody else came up with that,” McCoy gently points out.

“So lots of people copied him.”

There’s a sniffing noise from her direction next to him.

“Can I help you, Nyota?” McCoy asks. Kirk realizes he’s still standing by the liquor cabinet and begins to wonder how many he’s quietly had over the course of the evening so far. Dutch courage for later, maybe?

“No thank you, Leonard. I’m just getting myself another lemonade, if that’s okay?”

“Yeah, knock yourself out Uhura.”

“Well, captain, wherever you are…” Leonora says.

“Here, Mrs. McCoy. And please call me Jim.”

“I'll overlook your peculiar behavior this once, Jim. My son is dear to me and I don’t want him tying himself up legally with someone who can’t be trusted. You show me you can be a decent friend and I will look upon you most favorably. I can’t say fairer than that, can I?”

With relief he realizes she’s giving him a second chance. He needs not to blow it.

“Very fair, Mrs. McCoy.” She doesn’t need to know he’s poking his tongue out at her.

“Of course he’s a decent friend, mother. Plus, he’s already famous throughout the Federation for his successful missions. In three years time, he’ll be an admiral. He’s not going to go running off with the family silver. Not that Joce left me anything more than my class ring.”

Kirk notices the music has stopped – clearly it’s run through his entire Dolly Parton collection. “Let’s put on some more Dolly,” he says cheerily.

“Must you?” McCoy asks, an exasperated tone to his voice.

“If your mom likes it, then yeah.” Because he is willing to suck up if necessary.

“I appreciate you making the effort, Jim.”

“Look Spock,” Kirk says, slightly louder over the sound of the music. “I’m sorry if I hurt your feelings.”

“May I remind you that as a Vulcan, I do not have feelings to hurt, nor an ego to bruise. I was merely surprised you had failed to mention it.”

“Attaboy Spock," McCoy cuts in. “Storm in a teacup.”

“I fail to see how it is possible—”

“Never mind,” says McCoy. “It’s an idiom.”

“So we’re still friends, then?” Kirk asks. He makes his tone light-hearted, but underneath he’s serious. His friendship with Spock is important to him, not just because they have to work together. They have a deeper connection he appreciates. It’s just as Spock never talks about his relationship with Uhura, so he doesn’t want to share his feelings about Bones. And he’s comfortable with that.

“Captain—” Spock begins.

“Remember, Spock, 'to err is human, to forgive, divine'.”

“You just said that, Nyota,” Leonora points out.

“Did I?”

Unbeknown to the occupants of the room, and covered by the sound of Dolly Parton’s dulcet tones, Carol Marcus slips noiselessly into Kirk's quarters and hovers by the door.

“Anyone want another drink?” McCoy asks.

Carol leaves her place by the door and arms outstretched, moves into the cabin.

“I would welcome another stilka juice,” Spock says, rising and walking towards McCoy. He and Carol narrowly miss each other in the middle of the room before she settles in the middle of the couch.

Kirk decides to sit down. Spock returns with drink in hand and the two of them take a position on the couch simultaneously.

“Jim and I were talking about Carol Marcus earlier,” McCoy says. “How’s she settling in your department?”

“She is an adequate scientist,” Spock answers after a moment’s consideration, “though she has a tendency to distract a number of her male colleagues with a certain behavior I believe you would refer to as flirtatious.”

“Yeah, she was one of Jim’s flings when he was at the Academy. She was pretty stunning in a blowsy kind of way,” Bones says.

“Indeed.”

“It was all over well before we graduated the Academy,” Kirk explains. He probably should have mentioned that to Spock too when discussing whether to accept her transfer request to the Enterprise, but he hadn’t. At the time, he didn’t want to appear in any way partial or lacking objectivity to his First Officer.

“I remember her. Blonde, quite plain-looking,” pipes up Uhura.”

“No she wasn’t!” Not that he felt the need to defend Carol so much as the fact that it might be suggested he would ever date anyone who was plain.

“Just giving you my opinion,” Uhura says. “You know, objectively.”

Kirk’s mildly surprised. “I didn’t know you even knew her.”

Uhura giggles again. What is she drinking? Kirk wonders. “You’d be surprised who I knew at the Academy. She had teeth like a picket fence – yellow and spiky. And she had bad skin.”

“She wasn’t that bad!” He’s kind of surprised at Uhura. He’s never heard her talk like this before. She’s usually the kind of person who, if she doesn’t have something good to say, keeps counsel.

“Was too. It was a strange color and very coarse.”

Unseen by everyone, Carol rises from the couch in outrage.

“I think you’re speaking out of turn, Uhura,” McCoy admonishes. Even Bones, Kirk realizes, must be surprised at her.

“Just saying it like it is. She was intelligent, I’ll give her that. And also tiresomely Bohemian. ‘Carol call me Caro’. What’s the point in that? – it’s not like it’s an abbreviation of any use – it’s still like two syllables. How pretentious is that? When she wasn’t in uniform, she liked to go around in a dirndl and a sort of sultry peasant blouse. She looked like a walking ad for the Bavarian Tourist Board.”

Kirk had always hated her dress sense, it was true. The description was so apt, he laughs out loud, along with Uhura and Bones. There's a quiet huff from Spock – was that a suppressed laugh? Surely not - that'd be a first.

Guided by Kirk’s laughter, Carol aims her hand and slaps his face.

“Ow, fuck!”

“What’s wrong?” McCoy asks, worriedly.

“Jim?” Uhura says at the same time.

“That wasn’t funny Spock. What the hell’s gotten into you?”

Carol moves away from them so as not to be detected.

“I beg your pardon, Captain?” There’s clear puzzlement in his tone.

Kirk falters, confused. “Well I’m sure it wasn’t Mrs. McCoy.”

“What wasn’t?” she asks.

Kirk gets up quietly to figure out who’s nearest and groping about, catches Carol by her ass and instantly recognizes it. He pulls her in close so he can talk to her without being overheard.

“Carol!” he whispers in horror. “What the fuck are you doing here?”

She wriggles loose from his hold and moves away from him. Kirk tries to find her, moving above his cabin with his arms outstretched, and narrowly avoids catching her twice.

“What wasn’t me?” Leonora repeats.

Kirk can see the evening quickly sliding downhill if he doesn’t appease Carol and get her the fuck out of his quarters. Would Bones believe him when he tells her he’s had nothing to do with her since she’s been on board? Even he sounded incredulous earlier when they’d discussed it. This is overstepping the line - she’s going to be transferred off his ship so fast, her feet won’t touch the ground.

“I was just remembering her, Mrs. McCoy. I think Uhura’s exaggerating. She was beautiful. And anyway, Uhura’s admitted earlier I was famous at the Academy for my taste in women.”

“Yeah,” McCoy says, “but you had your lapses.”

He’s aware Bones was never that fond of Carol, although he never outright came out and said it. “Well, on this occasion you’re wrong! She was beautiful and tender and considerate and kind and loyal and witty and adorable in every way!” He can’t believe he’s just come out and defended her like that. And what the fuck must Bones be thinking?

“You told me she was as cuddly as a le-matya,” McCoy points out, his voice clearly giving away his confusion.

Uhura laughs.

“Did I? Surely not!”

“Captain,” Leonora says sternly. “Are you suggesting my son is a liar?”

Carol has made her way over to the liquor cabinet and finds the bottle of vodka Chekov gave him. Picking it up, she crosses the cabin again, avoiding the group.

“No! He’s one of the most honest people I’ve met.” That was easy to say, because it’s true. Sometimes too honest. But he’s never had a problem with that.

Over the sound of Dolly Parton, a gagging sound can be heard.

Kirk stealthily makes his way towards it and making a grab, catches Carol who immediately twines herself around him, her vodka bottle held aloft.

“What's all this talk about her being kind and tender, all of a sudden?” McCoy’s says, uncertain.

Shit. He didn’t want to fuck this up with Bones, he thinks as he tries to extricate himself from Carol’s clutch. “Well, for the sake of accuracy, I’m just saying she could be, on occasion.”

“From what you’ve told me, that ‘occasionally’ would be pretty rarely,” McCoy points out.

“Nnng!” The noise escapes Kirk’s mouth as she pinches him hard.

“Jim, are you okay?” Bones asks, worriedly.

With a forceful push, Kirk manages to escape. “Yeah, sorry, Bones.” He needs to deal with this, and right now. Grabbing her hand, he drags her towards his sleeping area and whispers to her, not realizing Spock is standing next to him. “Go into the bedroom and wait for me there.”

“Sir?”

“Oh god. I wasn’t talking to you.”

“What did you say?” Bones asks, sounding confused.

“I think he wants to talk to you in the bedroom,” Uhura answers. “For what purpose, I honestly can’t imagine!” She ends the sentence with a hiccup.

“They’re going to do more plotting,” Leonora suggests.

“Lovers’ talk, Leonora,” Uhura says, a dreamy quality to her voice. Kirk freezes.

“Lovers? They aren’t…my son isn’t… What are you suggesting?”

“Ah, just a hunch,” Uhura says, her voice smiling.

How the fuck does she know? Kirk wonders.

“Well, you’re wrong. My son was married. He has a child. If he was otherwise inclined, I think I’d know about it.”

Kirk pushes Carol ahead of him into the bedroom.

“'Journeys end in lovers meeting', as my father always says.”

Jim could slap her right about now. Instead he reluctantly follows Carol.

“What a strikingly original father you seem to have, madam. And your hunch is wrong. I know my son.” There’s a definite defensive tone to her voice which worries Kirk. Maybe she's homophobic and even if he was the most brilliant person in the galaxy, she’d hate him for ‘turning’ her son.

Before he can have another thought, he feels McCoy’s hands at his hips.

“What is it, Jim?” McCoy whispers. “Has something gone wrong? Is it something you can't move?

“Nothing. It's pretty much all back except the couch. That’s never going through the bathroom – I’ll have to get it out into the corridor.”

“So why do you want me in the bedroom? Do you—”

“No! I don’t.” Kirk doesn’t want Carol knowing about them. “Go away!”

“Charming!” McCoy mutters.

That came out wrong and he instantly feels bad. This stupid mess isn’t Bones’ fault. “I didn't mean that.”

“Whatever,” McCoy says and leaves.

“What’s going on in there?” Leonora asks, her tone suspicious.

“Nothing, Mrs. McCoy. Why don’t you have another drink? Bones, fix one for her, will you.” He turns to Carol and whispers, “Now for fucks’ sake, stay there.”

“Don’t worry Leonard,” Uhura says brightly. “Let me get you one, Leonora, as I’m over here already.”

“I can get one for myself thank you. Do you want another lemonade?”

Uhura giggles. “I’m good, thanks,” and there’s a distinct sound of a bottle and glass clinking.

“So what’s going on here?” Carol whispers with a laugh.

“What apart from the fact we’re in some weird anomaly that’s sucked all the light out of the ship? This was supposed to be a quiet dinner party for Bones, his mom and Commodore Mendez. I don’t know why I’m explaining this to you. Now what the hell are you doing in my quarters, Lieutenant?”

“Lieutenant? It’s like that, is it?”

“Look, Carol, if I ever meant anything to you, just slip away quietly with no more questions.” It was a long shot, but worth it. He’s sure the woman’s unhinged.

“Another drink for you, Spock?” Kirk hears Uhura ask.

“That would be acceptable. Jim is correct, I am finding this beverage most palatable.”

Jim’s feeling suspicious about the effect of stilka juice on Vulcans, as Spock’s behaving decidedly weirdly. He’ll have to have words with old Spock about that.

“Jim’s been gone a long time,” he hears Bones say. “What’s he up to?”

“Maybe he's got that Carol hidden away in his bedroom, and they're having a tête-à-tête!” she laughs. Kirk’s stomach clenches at how close she is. What, is Uhura psychic or something?

“Don’t be absurd!” Bones says gruffly.

“I’ve missed you so badly, Jim, these last two years. “I had to see you. I've thought about nothing else since you left on this mission. It was a mistake dumping you. That’s why I asked for a transfer to your ship.”

“It’s over between us. You did the right thing. I’m not what you need.” And you’re definitely not what I need.

“We’ve known each other for three years. That’s not something we should just throw away.” She’s still whispering, and Kirk can detect an edge of desperation. Not that it would sway him. He’d made his decision and staked his claim with Bones, and what they had together is unshakeable.

“I’m sorry Carol. Now will you please leave,” he says more firmly.

'Too solemn for day, too sweet for night. Come not in darkness, come not in light,' she says softly.

“‘But come in some twilight interim, When the gloom is soft, and the light is dim,’” Jim finishes. “Why are you quoting W.S. Walker?”

“Because it’s describing me, isn't it? You don’t want me at your little party.”

“No. I want you to leave. Now.”

“What are you doing in there, Jim?” McCoy’s voice drifts in from the other room. It makes his stomach clench participating in this subterfuge when they’ve barely begun in their relationship.

“Nothing, I’ll be out in a minute.” Lies. He hates it. He’ll tell Bones later what’s happened. There will be no secret from the man he loves.

“So what’s your sordid secret?”

Kirk’s throat constricts. First Uhura, now Carol. What the fuck? “There isn’t any,” he replies, keeping his voice even.

“Well in that case, you won’t mind me staying. I can get undressed and wait for you here.”

Oh god. What had he done to deserve this? “No! I mean it Carol. It’s over – it has been for a long time. We’re not going back to what we had. I’m not interested.”

“Captain!” Leonora calls out.

“Shit. Leave now, Carol. Do I need to make it an order?”

“You can’t order me when it’s something personal. If you don’t want them to know I’m here, you’d better come back later and give me what I want.”

“Bitch.”

“I know she’s being difficult, but there’s no need to call my mother that!” McCoy says indignantly.

When the fuck had he come back into the bedroom? He can’t have heard anything if he’s misunderstood who the epithet was aimed at.

“I didn’t!”

“Then why did you say it?” McCoy asks, accusingly.

“I just stubbed my toe and…”

“Never mind, Jim, just come back now. Everyone’s wondering what you’re doing in here, including me.”

“Captain? Are you here?” came a strong Spanish voice from the main cabin door.

“Shit! It’s Mendez.” Kirk grabs McCoy and pulls him out of the bedroom – he doesn’t want him lingering in there and discovering Carol.

“Sir, with the blackout, I wasn’t expecting you.”

“You’ll have to speak up, Jim,” McCoy quietly reminds him. “He’s deaf.”

“Good evening, sir,” Spock says, his voice raised.

“Hello!” Uhura yells brightly.

“Sorry for the problem with the lighting,” Jim shouts. “We’re still trying to figure out what’s going on.”

“It’s not a problem - part of the adventure of space travel.”

“Can I get you a drink? Bones asks loudly.

“No thank you. So you’re having a party here?”

“The Captain’s gathering,” Uhura shouts. “I should probably go – I wasn’t meant to be here.”

“Oh please don’t leave, dear lady.” Smooth, Kirk has to give him credit. He’s heard about Mediterranean types. Though this one’s no match for Spock.

“You can stay if you want, Uhura,” Kirk reassures her. “Sir, you know Mrs. McCoy,” he yells in one ear.

“We met at the pre-mission brief,” Leonora yells in the other. “But I didn’t see you while we were in transit on the Potemkin. It’s an honor to work with you, sir.”

“The honor is all mine, ma’am.”

“This is Dr. Leonard McCoy, my CMO, who also happens to be Mrs. McCoy’s son,” Kirk shouts, wondering how long he could keep this up before his voice got hoarse.

“Glad you managed to find us!” McCoy yells at him.

“Pleased to be here.”

“Commander Spock, my First Officer. You met in the transporter room this morning.”

“Greetings, sir,” Spock responds, again not quite so loudly as everyone else.

“Ah, the Vulcan. Yes, I remember.”

“And Lieutenant Uhura, my Communications officer.”

“Pleasure to meet you, honey,” she shouts.

“Honey?” Kirk says quietly to Bones. “Did she really just call the Commodore honey? What have you been giving her to drink?”

“Enchanted.” There’s clear smile to his voice and Kirk imagines Spock glaring at him. He’s seen how Spock gets when on shoreleave, if anyone tries hitting on his girlfriend.

“She’s been on lemonade all night, I swear,” Bones says quietly in his ear. It’s distracting feeling Bones’ hot breath across the side of his face. He puts out his hand and brushes the back of it against Bones’ fingers. McCoy curls his fingers around Kirk’s in response. Such a simple gesture and it has Kirk’s heart racing.

“We’ve all kind of taken refuge here.” Uhura yells by way of explanation.

“Why are you all shouting at me? I’m not deaf.”

“I thought Scotty said Keenser hadn’t managed to fix his hearing aid,” Kirk whispers to McCoy.

“Well it was on the blink when he came aboard. Maybe Keenser’s fixed it after all, or maybe he had a back-up.”

“My father is,” Uhura says.

“What?” Leonora asking the question on everyone’s lips.

“My father, he’s deaf as a post.” Uhura moves to the couch and Spock joins her.

“The music is nice,” the Spaniard says after a song ends.

“It’s country and western. Dolly Parton,” Leonora explains.

“I’m not familiar with her music.”

There’s a lull in the conversation, allowing Kirk to pick up the unmistakable sounds of… necking. Were Spock and Uhura getting it down in his quarters? He’s never seen them so much as touch in public since that kiss on the transporter platform, and that was extenuating circumstances. Since then, they’ve been decorum personified.

“Do you hear what I hear,” Kirk asks Bones quietly.

“They’re necking,” McCoy confirms. “It’s giving me ideas.”

Kirk looks at McCoy incredulously, not that he can see his expression. But the commodore and his mother are in the room, for fuck’s sake!

“Keep them to yourself,” Kirk advises.

“Oh, what’s this?” the Spaniard asks.

“What?” Jim asks.

“Feels like…a statue or something.”

Shit, he’s left it by the door meaning to take it back to Spock’s cabin.

“Oh just a little something I picked up – can’t remember which planet now.”

“Vulcan,” Leonora supplies helpfully.

“Yes?” Spock asks from the couch, where it’s thankfully gone quiet.

“Uh…” Kirk really wants to change the subject and not talk about Spock’s Vulcan statue.

“The statue, you said it’s from Vulcan.” Unfortunately, Leonora isn’t on his wavelength.

“I was unaware—“ Spock begins, standing up and approaching.

“You sure I can’t get you a drink, sir? McCoy suddenly asks. “Jim got in some Sangria, especially.”

“Thank you, no. I am afraid I’m not fond of Sangria after I had a bad experience of it as a teenager and besides, I won’t be staying long. Also ‘sir’ sounds so formal. Please call me Jose.”

“Jose, right. How about you, Spock? Drink?”

“Another would be appreciated.”

“Me too,” Uhura says happily, bounding across the room. “Don’t worry, I’ll get it myself.

“Ah, I can feel the smoothness of the stone,” Jose says, clearly having no intention of letting the subject drop. “I feel it here - and here - the two needles of man's unrest: self-love and self-hate, leading to the same point! That's the meaning of the work, isn't it?”

Uhura returns to the couch and lies down on it just as Kirk moves to one end and begins to push it silently towards the main door to his quarters.

“I guess…”

“Come, captain,” Jose replies. “Feel for yourself… where are you captain?”

Annoyed, Kirk moves away from the couch and stands beside Jose. “I’m here – and since we’re being informal, please call me Jim.”

“Jim, yes! I christen this – ‘The Spirit of Shakespeare’! See?” Unseen by everyone, he’s touching the very pointed ears. “Malvolio! Hamlet! Malvolio, as you know, was sick of self-love. Hamlet of self-hate. He could not love others because he could not love himself. This is an old disease, diagnosed long ago by St. Augustine. But you obviously know all this.”

Yeah, he does, but he’s not sure he should be encouraging the weirdly rambling Spaniard by entering a debate with him. “Uh… well, you’re obviously a great expert.”

There, he’s got in a compliment, too. He can feel Bones rolling his eyes from where he stands.

“I wouldn’t say that. When it comes to art, I know what I like,” Jose says, modestly.

“To have realized all that in the dark!” Kirk says as he moves back to the couch. “That's what I call essential connoisseurship. Anyone can see symbols in the light. Factual Tactility! You're amazing, Jose!”

With a quiet shove, Kirk manages to get the couch out of the door. Now he needs to maneuver it around into the corridor. Getting it back into Spock’s quarters and retrieving his own will have to wait for a bit.

“Standing here now, I can feel the vital thrust of the argument!” Jose continues, and embraces the idlomput. “The essential anguish! The stress and torment of our times! Simple, but not simple-minded! Ingenious but not ingenuous! Above all, it has real moral force.” He pauses melodramatically, then adds, “Of how many modern works can one say that, good people?” His voice has become hoarse, as though he is close to tears.

“Very few, Jose,” McCoy answers when Jim doesn’t.

“I hope I’m not coming across as lecturing – it’s a fault of mine.”

“No, not at all, Jose,” McCoy reassures. “What you have to say is very…interesting.”

“I do not believe I have heard art being described in quite that manner,” Spock adds.

“That’s certainly an interesting interpretation, Jose,” Leonora says. “Very emotional.

Not wanting to risk the rocking chair again, Leonora moves towards where the couch was, seating herself tentatively in the air, then moving herself along in a sitting position trying to find it with her rear end.

Meanwhile, Jim comes back into the cabin from the corridor, the door swishing shut behind him, and he gropes his way to towards where he’s moved a coffee table to make room for the couch. Finding it, he carries it forward, hopefully to do duty for the missing couch. Just as he places it in position, the travelling Leonora sits on it, trapping Jim's hand beneath her weight. Jim tries frantically to free himself.

“I fail to understand the logic in attempting to ascribe emotions to an inert piece of sculptured stone.”

“As a Vulcan you don’t understand emotions. You want my opinion, whoever sculptured this was a genius. A master who can realize anything he wants - the black virginity of Chartres on Earth! The white chorale of the Emperor’s mausoleum on Gamma Aquarii. Maravilloso!”

“Do you own much artwork yourself, Jose?” McCoy asks into the stunned silence.

“Alas, no. As Moses discovered, it is sufficient to glimpse milk and honey. One does not have to wolf them down!”

“Er…indeed,” Leonora rises, freeing Kirk’s hand.

“Okaaaay.”

“He’s a nut,” Jim says quietly in McCoy’s ear. “I can’t believe Nogura’s grooming him for a top position. How did he even get as far as Commodore?”

“I would certainly buy art if I could afford it,” Jose adds.

“I understood you come from a wealthy family,” Leonora says, sounding surprised.

“Not that wealthy, no. We own some lands in Andalucia, but that is all.”

“You mean your family have gone broke?” Bones asks. He knows how fortunes can be made and lost in a single generation.

“My family never had that much. The land is mostly rocky scrub – unfortunately, it can’t be used for farming.”

“I thought your family have been generous donors to the Federation heritage fund,” Leonora persists.

“You speak of Commodore Mendez.”

“Then who the hell are you?” Kirk demands. “You introduced yourself as Mendez.”

“I did not. I am Jose Acosta, the commodore’s assistant. With the blackout, he assumed dinner this evening was postponed and asked me to come to reorganize a suitable time. And I have come. You have made me very welcome.”

“Of all the nerve, coming in here, giving us a lecture about Hamlet and virgins, and all the time you're simply here to relay a message!”

“You didn’t introduce yourself,” McCoy points out. “Surely you must have realized we didn’t know who you are. You and the commodore sound the same to us.”

“We do?”

“Well, you both have Spanish accents,” Leonora adds. “You come in here uninvited and proceed to harangue us in a most unwelcome manner.”

“But you did welcome me.”

“Well you can go back and tell Commodore Mendez,” Leonora says, her voice raised, this time out of anger, “that we have gathered here and he need not postpone his original arrangement.”

“So. Farewell! I leave the light of Art for the dark of Science!”

As the door opens, the group who are standing around looking mildly embarrassed, hear Uhura singing ‘Rock of Ages’ in a high, drunken voice, out in the corridor, until the door slides closed again. Kirk cringes when he realizes she must have been on the couch when he moved it. No wonder it had felt so heavy.

“Why is Nyota in the corridor?” Spock asks. He doesn’t sound concerned to Kirk, just curious.

“Er…maybe she’s more comfortable out there?” was the only answer he could think of on the spur of the moment.

Carol appears in the bedroom doorway wearing nothing but one of Kirk’s pajama tops and panties, swaying slightly as she clutches a bottle of vodka and his toothmug.

 

Kirk grabs McCoy’s hand and leads him over to near the bedroom, out of earshot of the others and whispers, “Tell me this evening isn’t happening.”

“You’ve only got your own damnfool self to blame, Jim.”

Kirk sighs. “Yeah, I know – it just seemed like a good idea at the time.”

“It’s at times like this that I feel I could just throw in the towel and go live a quiet life in the house we’re buying.”

Carol hears this and her mouth opens wide with astonishment. She aims at the voice and sends a jet of vodka splashing down over McCoy.

“Arrgh! Fuck!”

“What?” Jim asks, alarmed.

“It’s raining vodka.”

“What are you talking about?” he asks, wondering again just how much Bones has drunk this evening. Maybe putting him in charge of the liquor cabinet wasn’t his greatest idea.

“I’m all wet.”

Jim chuckles. Now there’s an image to play with. Jim grins.

Carol throws vodka over a wider area and this time, Spock gets it, too.

“Who has just poured an alcoholic beverage over me?”

“What?” Kirk asks, puzzled now.

“What’s the matter with you all?” Leonora demands. “What are you talking about?” The words have barely left her mouth when she gets a slug of vodka in the face.

“Ahh!”

Kirk’s beginning to get suspicious. There’s only one person he can think of who might be responsible, though he’s never know her to act this insanely before. “Must be some kind of leak.”

“A vodka leak?” Spock asks incredulously.

“Er…” Yeah, that was a bit lame.

Carol throws the toothmug across the room which is followed by a moment of silence.

“Is there another person occupying this room?” Spock asks the logical question.

“Er…” Kirk has a horrible sinking feeling they’re all about to find out about Carol.

“Who are you?” Leonora demands to know.

“It could be Jose,” Jim suggests. “Maybe he only pretended to leave.”

“Well, we'll soon see. Jose?” Leonora calls.

“Or my yeoman…”

“What would Rand be doing here in the evening, in the dark?”

It was a perfectly reasonable question. Anything so they wouldn’t know it was Carol. “She can be very conscientious.”

“Let’s first just see if it's her. Is that you, Rand?” Leonora quietly asks. When there’s no response she yells, “Yeoman Rand!”

“Yes?” Carol says, not attempting to disguise her voice, Kirk notices.

“It is!” Jim says weakly, hating that he’s deceiving Bones. “Wow, Rand, what on earth are you doing here?”

“I'm just giving your cabin a bit of a tidy, sir.”

“At this time of night? In the dark?” Bring it to everyone’s attention and he’ll have the excuse he needs to get her the hell out of his quarters.

“Better late than never, sir, as they say. I know how you like your quarters to be nice and inviting when you're giving a parties.”

“Yes, yes, yes, of course.” He’s just about to suggest she leave when Leonora cut in.

“When did you come in, madam? Don’t you even ring to enter?”

Kirk isn’t certain, but he thinks he can detect a slight slurring to Leonora’s voice and wonders how many chocolate liqueurs she’s had.

“Just a few minutes ago, ma’am. I didn't like to disturb you, so I came in quietly.”

“Are you the person responsible for pouring vodka on us?” Spock asks, perfectly reasonably.

“Vodka?” she asks innocently. “I must have knocked the bottle over or something. It's as black as a witches tit in here. Are you taking advantage of the dark to play one of your naughty games, Captain?”

“What?” McCoy says incredulously.

Kirk winces. He can’t believe she’s said that in front of Leonora. Kirk could merrily strangle her right about now.

“I thought it might be one of those games in the dark, sir; Sardines or Piccadilly. The kind that end in a general squeeze-up. I know you're rather partial to kinky games, Captain, so I just wondered.”

“We’re just waiting to pass through this anomaly,” Kirk says through gritted teeth, wanting a hole to open up so he could drop into it and not have to deal with this any more. “Hopefully we’ll be out of it soon.”

“Well, that'll be a relief for you, won't it?” She dashes the vodka accurately in his face, passes him by and walks into the center of the room.

Kirk wipes his face on his sleeve, but he must be reeking of the stuff now. “Yes, it will. Anyway, you’re not needed here, Rand. Return to your own quarters. Dismissed.”

“I wouldn’t want you to be entertaining in an untidy room, sir.”

“I appreciate your concern, Yeoman.” He’s only barely holding onto his temper as he gropes around trying to find her, but she keeps evading him. “My quarters are in a perfectly acceptable condition. There’s nothing for you to do here this evening. So go.”

“Are you sure about that, sir?” Carol asks with a strong dose of innuendo.

The thought of being with her now makes him shudder. “Completely. You’re dismissed, Yeoman.”

“I mean, I know what this place can be like after one of your evenings. Gin bottles all over the floor! Bras and panties in the sink! And God knows what in the—”

Kirk finally finds her and immediately muzzles her with his hand. She bites it hard, and he drops to his knees in silent agony.

“He’s even knocked up one of his own crew,” Carol announces.

“What?” this time from Kirk, Bones and Leonora. At least Spock doesn’t appear to believe that, Jim’s glad to note.

“Jim?” McCoy asks. Shit, surely Bones wouldn’t seriously fall for bullshit like that.

There’s a long pause. Carol sits on the table, looking smug and swinging her vodka bottle in absolute command of the situation.

“By ‘knocked up’, do you mean to say he’s fraternized with one of his crew and got her pregnant?” Leonora clarifies.

“Yes, she told me herself.”

That’s it! Kirk finally snaps. “It’s malicious lies, he says, clearly angry. “I haven’t slept with any of my crew since the start of this mission.” There were more than one or two he’d slept with while at the Academy, but that totally doesn’t count.

“I have been attempting to place your voice,” Spock says quietly. “You are not who you claim to be, Lieutenant Marcus.”

“Carol Marcus?” McCoy repeats.

“Lieutenant,” Kirk adds weakly.

“I don't understand anything that's going on in this room!” Leonora admits.

“I know. It is a very odd room, isn't it? It's like a magic dark room, where everything happens the wrong way round. Rain falls indoors, the captain’s yeoman comes at night and turns in a second from a nice member of the crew into a nasty mistress,” Carol says.

“I would advise you to refrain from further comment, Lieutenant,” Spock says; his voice has a ring of steel to it.

“I agree,” Jim says, relieved that it’s finally out there. “I’ll have you on charges of insubordination and defamation of character.” He knows she’s drunk, but he’s pretty sure she’s insane, too. She was intense at times at the Academy, but never off-the-wall crazy like this. “What the hell’s gotten into you?”

“I want you back, Jim.”

“You walked out on me two and a half years ago,” Jim points out. “And I was done with you too.”

“Were you really?”

What – did she think he’s been pining all this time? “You said you never wanted to see me again, and I was okay with that.”

“You say that, but I know it hurt your ego to be dumped. I was the one who got away.”

“I realized when I was free of you how suffocating our relationship had been. We weren’t right for each other and I honestly don’t know why you’re here now.”

“Perhaps because I care about you. It’s why I’m carrying your baby.”

Kirk is genuinely shocked by the comment. “You’re crazy! I haven’t been near you in thirty months. What is it, the immaculate conception?!

“The baby is yours, Jim. He just wasn’t conceived by conventional means.”

“What?” This is becoming increasingly surreal. He feels Bones get closer to him, feels him take his hand in support. “Impossible.”

“I knew things weren’t working out with us, but you’re so intelligent and handsome, I wanted your baby. A prime specimen. The Academy wasn’t the right time, so, the last few times we made love, I changed the condoms you used – they’re designed to collect sperm samples, which I cryogenically froze. I’m a scientist, it pretty easy, when I was ready, to thaw them and inject myself with them at the right time in my cycle.” Her voice exultant.

Kirk is in shock, pulled out of it by a squeeze to his hand from Bones.

“You’re insane,” McCoy says quietly. “You do realize under Federation law, Jim can have your pregnancy terminated.”

Kirk is surprised Bones would say something like that, even though it’s true. He realizes he doesn’t mean it – he reveres life, not just because of his Hippocratic Oath, but because he himself believes any life is worth saving.

Meanwhile, he’s still reeling from the news.

“I’ve already decided I’m going to call him David,” she announces. “He’s due in July.”

David. My son. Kirk can’t get his head around the idea. “I don’t know what to say,” he admits, conflicting emotions churning inside him.

“If you don’t take me back, then I’m never letting you see him,” Carol threatens, “I’ll make sure you’re never granted access to him. He’ll grow up never knowing who his father is.”

“What a despicable woman,” announces Leonora, finally shaking herself out of her astonishment. “Bubba was trapped by a gold-digger who got herself pregnant—”

“I’m not a gold-digger!”

“—knowing he’d do the honorable thing and marry her. It was the most miserable three years of his life. Then she had the gall to have an affair and not only divorced my son, but took him to the cleaners. I’ll warrant you’re no different. You should be ashamed of yourself.”

“Mother,” McCoy quietly admonishes.

“It’s true. I never made a secret of the fact I didn’t like Jocelyn – never knew what you saw in her. My god, even Captain Kirk would make a better partner for you than her.”

“Really?” Bones asks, surprised.

“How long have you loved him?” Leonora asks out of left field.

Kirk has always had trouble figuring out women, but these two are in a class of their own. Earlier Leonora was admonished him for being an incompetent captain and now she’s pushing Bones on him.

Carol laughs. “Just because I didn’t want to marry you, did you have to settle for this lot?”

“What?” Kirk, Bones and Leonora exclaim simultaneously.

“Marry you?” Kirk repeats. “What the hell are you talking about?”

“All right! Kinky game time!” Carol announces. “Let's all play Guess the Lips.”

“How disgusting!” Leonora exclaims.

“Who should I start with? Hmmm, how about Bubba? That should make Jim jealous.”

“Don’t you.. urgh! Stop that!” McCoy says angrily. “Can’t someone do something?”

The room goes silent and then there’s an audible thump.

“Captain,” Spock says quietly. “I have rendered Lieutenant Marcus unconscious.”

“Thank god for that,” Kirk breathes a sigh of relief. “I was ready to kill her.”

“Spock to Security.”

Kirk didn’t hear Spock move to the console. In the dark, he feels McCoy’s arm go around his waist and pull him closer to his side. His insides are churning, his head…well, he doesn’t know where his head is right now. All over the place.

A team with a gurney are at his door within three minutes, which is pretty amazing given they had to get there in total darkness. Carol is taken down to the brig where she’ll be held until the end of their current assignment – the doctor thought she was too unstable to be allowed back to her cabin, in case she attempted some form of self-harm.

“Chestnuts roasting on an open fire,” Uhura sings softly.  
“Jack Frost nipping on your nose,  
Yuletide carols being sung by a choir,  
And folks dressed up like Eskimos.”

Kirk’s completely forgotten about Uhura. Last he knew, he’d accidentally taken her out with the couch and wonders why she didn’t come back in before now. He’s convinced, despite being teetotal, that she’s drunk, so maybe she fell asleep and the commotion with security woke her. But he has to admit, she has more than a half-decent voice. Everyone stands in thrall.

“Everybody knows a turkey and some mistletoe,  
Help to make the season bright.  
Tiny tots with their eyes all aglow,  
Will find it hard to sleep tonight.

“They know that Santa's on his way;  
He's loaded lots of toys and goodies on his sleigh.  
And every mother's child is going to spy,  
To see if reindeer really know how to fly.

“And so I'm offering this simple phrase,  
To kids from one to ninety-two,  
Although its been said many times, many ways,  
A very Merry Christmas to you.”

She holds the last note with a gentle vibrato.

“Brava, Nyota,” Leonora says, a smile in her voice. “You sing beautifully.”

“Yeah, I didn’t know you could sing,” Kirk admits. To his knowledge, she’s never sung in public.

“I believe you are intoxicated, Nyota.”

“You're quite right , Spock. Stilka juice is awesome,” she laughed. “And you’re a one to talk, drinking chocolate liqueur all night – like I wouldn’t notice!”

“That’s the last time I put you in charge of the liquor, Bones!” Kirk admonishes. A thought crosses his mind at the way Leonora’s temperament has changed.

“I will escort you to your quarters,” Spock announced.

“I'm sorry I can’t stay longer, Captain; looks like I’m gonna score with Spock tonight!”

“Right,” says Kirk, unsure what to do with that information. Oversharing, much? “Well, happy Holidays to you both.”

“Night!” Uhura said with a laugh as the door closes on them.

“If you want a good lawyer to deal with Ms. Marcus, Captain, I can recommend Samual T. Cogley – I believe he’s currently practicing at Starbase 11. If my son had listened to me and used his services, that little tramp of an ex-wife wouldn’t have ended up with half of what she did. It’s not too late, Bubba – he can still help you with access to Joanna. Now Captain, if you’ll excuse me, it’s been a tiresome evening. I believe I will retire. Happy Christmas to you both.”

With that she leaves. Kirk pulls out of McCoy’s loose embrace and carefully makes his way over to the liquor cabinet. “Which of these bottles was your mom drinking?”

Bones joins him and Kirk can hear him fumbling. “Uh, this one. Well, I thought it was the chocolate liqueur.”

“No Bones, that’s Romulan Ale. Shit – she’s gonna have a monster headache tomorrow.”

“Uh…they all are. Stilka juice is pretty potent for Humans, and Vulcans get intoxicated on chocolate. As for Romulan ale – where the hell did you get it? It’s not even legal! Thank god my mom holds her liquor well.”

Kirk groans at the thought, which turns into an appreciative sigh as strong arms envelope him and warm lips meet his. This. Why the hell hasn’t he gotten involved with Bones earlier?

+

McCoy deepens the kiss, his tongue curling around Jim’s in a hungry dance. He feels Jim’s hands slide down his back to lightly cup his ass, gently pulling them closer together, as one of his own hands moves to card through Jim’s short hair, something he’s never done before while Jim’s been conscious.

For the first six months of their mission, he called himself all kinds of crazy to follow Jim onto a goddamn starship instead of taking a nice, cushy ground number. Now that decision is paying off.

The kiss earlier on the couch came like a very welcome bolt from the blue and he’s been waiting for this moment, having Jim all to himself, all evening. He pushes his hard-on against Jim, feeling an answering hardness, Jim’s fingers tightening on his ass.

The quiet of the cabin is filled with the sounds of their kisses, their heavy breathing and then, interrupting it, the comm. chime.

“Fuck!” Jim says, pulling completely away from him and heads in the direction of his comm. unit. A second later there’s a crash.

“Ow! Shit! What the fuck’s the rocking chair doing there?”

“You okay?” McCoy asks worriedly. If Jim breaks anything, he won’t be able to use a regenerator until they get light back.

“Yeah, just a bruised ass.” An amused tone enters his voice as he adds, “You can kiss it better later. Kirk here.”

“Scott here, sir. Just to let you know we’ll be passing out of this black-out in seven hours and twenty three minutes.”

It was a simple statement, but McCoy knew they must have done a lot of jury-rigging to get the computer to analyze all the data, and come up with verbal conclusions they could work with.

“Okay, I’ll guess we’ll have to sit tight until then.”

“We’ve got some theories on this anomaly which I’ll put in a report,” Scott adds. “Meanwhile, our ETA at the Hydra Signii system remains unchanged.”

“Scotty. I owe you one for this.

“You know a bottle of malt will never go amiss, sir,” he suggests, sounding amused.

McCoy knew Jim already had a bottle of Glen Morangie lined up for him for Christmas, so that would be easy enough to do.

“Let’s see what Santa brings, eh Scotty?”

“Aye. Here’s hoping!” he laughs. “Scott out.”

Jim manages to make it back to him without falling over anything. Arms envelope his waist. “Now, where was I?” he asks, his voice husky.

“Right about here,” McCoy replies and leans in to kiss him. Jim’s mouth opens readily as Bones slides his tongue in and around, twining with Jim’s, all slick and hot; the pressure of lips, stabbing licks and flicks, causes an arrow of pleasure to shoot through him, leaving him hard again in seconds. Jim kisses him back with fervor, alternating between tender and passionate in a way McCoy’s only been able to fantasize about until now. His heart is racing, his breathing ragged, and all from just a few minutes of necking. When they make it to the bed, it’s going to be fireworks, he just knows.

Just as he starts to grind his cock against Jim, the door-chime sounds.

“Oh for the love of—”

“Fuck!” Jim hisses in frustration.

“Who the hell’s it this time?” he growls. Whoever it is, he could cheerfully stab them with a hypo full of Andorian herpes right about now.

“Enter.”

“Ah Captain.” The thick Spanish accent gives him away.

“Jose,” Jim says. “What can I do for you? Everyone’s gone now.” There was a definitely unwelcome tone to the voice, Jim, like himself, clearly did not want the diplomatic assistant inviting himself back into his quarters.

McCoy marvels at how calm Jim’s voice is. If the lights were on, he’d likely look disheveled, his lips all swollen from their kisses.

“I was wondering whether you have an update on whatever it is that’s made us lose all light. As you’re aware, the diplomatic team, you and some of your senior staff are due to meet tomorrow morning, but we may need to reschedule if we still have the blackout.”

“My chief engineer has calculated we’ll be through it in a little over seven hours, so all being well, the meeting can go ahead as scheduled.”

“Excellent. And our ETA at Maralavia?”

“Is unchanged,” Jim confirms.

“Even better. They’ve been very understanding over our delay. They are an interesting species, humanoid but not entirely mammalian, with a very strong identity to their past, with their DNA holding a collective memory of their ancestors which—”

“Jose,” Kirk interrupts. “Can we have this discussion another time?”

McCoy’s not surprised Jim’s cut him off after his long – and weird – exposition on Spock’s idlomput earlier.

“Ah, of course Captain. My apologies.”

“Night Jose.”

“Goodnight…oh and Captain? Can you thank Lieutenant Keenser for managing to repair my hearing aid.”

McCoy wasn’t sure whether the strangled sound came from him or Jim.

“Commodore!” Kirk facepalms.

“Yes, Captain?”

“I’m sorry, I thought you were Mr. Acosta again. You both sound—”

“No matter, Captain,” Mendez responds mildly, amusement evident in his voice. “I’ll see you tomorrow. Feliz Navidad!”

“Merry Christmas.”

Kirk bangs his head against the bulkhead beside the now closed door.

“Good schmoozing, Jim,” McCoy says helpfully.

“Fuck!” Jim laughs, walking over to his liquor cabinet. “What a night! I won’t be forgetting this one in a hurry.” Sniffing the bottle, he pours a small amount of stilka into a glass and takes a sip. As the lemon-y flavor bursts across his tongue, he realizes why Uhura thought she was drinking lemonade.

“Where are you?” McCoy asks.

“Over here.” McCoy arrives and grabs his hand. Another gulp of the juice and he puts the glass down, allowing himself to be pulled towards the bedroom. “Come on Jim, let’s make some more memories. And I swear, if anyone else interrupts us, I’ll perform a post mortem on them before I kill them.”

Kirk laughs, happily following.

McCoy swings him round so they’re facing each other. “Jim,” he says reverently cupping Kirk’s face, feeling the slight coarseness of bristle on his cheeks as he brings their mouths together. McCoy feels the rush of passion through his body, Kirk’s tongue like warm silk in his mouth. Hot hands creep under his shirt, skim along his back, then move around to the front to the fastening of his trousers.

McCoy pulls away, panting. “Too many clothes,” he says, taking hold of the hem of Kirk’s shirts and tugging them up. When they’re halfway over his head he stops, trapping Kirk’s arms, and leans forward nosing into Jim’s underarm hair, then moving to lick at the exposed chest, biting gently on a nipple.

“Fuck,” Kirk hisses.

He releases the shirts and Kirk immediately wriggles out of them.

“I don’t think I’m gonna last long this first time,” Kirk confesses as McCoy pulls his own shirts off.

“You and me, both,” McCoy agrees.

Kirk’s mouth is suddenly against his again, limpet-like, sucking at his lips, tongue demanding entry. They press their bodies together, chest to chest and he’s so sensitive, he can feel Kirk’s nipples, pebbled to small peaks. Kirk’s all movement, his hips rotating, sliding their cocks together through layers of cloth.

He’s fantasized about this for so long, it’s hard to believe it’s finally happening. He can’t see Jim and wishes he could, but doing it all by touch is okay too. He sucks on Jim’s tongue and…something feels strange. It’s swollen.

“Jim?”

“Yeth…er…whath’s wrong with my tongue…?”

“Fuck! Jim!”

“I don’t feel tho good, Bonthes…”

It takes McCoy three hours to fully detox Jim. Three hours when they could have been having the best mind-blowing sex ever to herald in Christmas. The procedure –one McCoy can practically do in his sleep – normally takes much less time, but trying to do everything in complete darkness is a challenge. The last thing he wants is to make a mistake and worsen Kirk’s condition.

“Didn’t the fact the stilka tasted of lemon give you a clue, you moron?” McCoy is still royally pissed off, his mood not helped by a dull ache in his balls. Despite his tone, he’s holding Jim’s hand as he lies recovering on a bio-bed.

“But stilka’s a Vulcan drink,” Kirk said petulantly.

“Yes, it may be. But one of its constituent parts is citral – which you know you’re allergic to and is why you’ve never been able to eat oranges, lemons or limes. It’s a common compound found in a lot of non-Terran plants, too.”

How the man can be a goddamn genius and such an idiot is beyond his comprehension.

“I’m sorry,” Kirk says softly into the silence.

McCoy runs his fingers through Jim’s hair and then leans down and kisses his forehead.

“I don’t mean just for this, Bones. I lied to you earlier. Carol got into my quarters a lot earlier than everyone realized.”

“I know.”

“I tried to get rid of her but… What? You knew?”

“Not right away – it took me a while to place her perfume. Not sure why – I never did like the stuff – too cloying.”

“She was threatening to make a scene, and with your mom there…”

“Given you weren’t exactly in mom’s good books until Carol showed her true colors…she actually did you a favor, Jim.” He pauses from carding Jim’s hair to tenderly run his thumb over Jim’s forehead in a gesture of support. He smiles. “Only you can roll around in shit and still come up smelling of roses.”

Kirk chuckles and then goes quiet. Too quiet.

“You okay?” McCoy asks.

“Just thinking about the baby. I’m not going to see him growing up, never going to know him. Knowing Carol, she won’t even tell him who his father is.”

McCoy squeezes Jim’s hand. There’s nothing he can say to that. It’s hard enough for him rarely seeing Joanna, but he does at least have some access rights to her on their rare visits home.

He hears Kirk heave a sigh. “You gonna make me stay here all night?” McCoy can imagine Jim’s bottom lip poking out in a pout.

“I could release you to your quarters, but I’ll need to stay with you to monitor you.”

“Yeah?” Jim asks hopefully.

“No sex, Jim. Your body is still recovering.”

“You’re kidding, right?”

McCoy sighs. “I wish I were, honestly. You have no idea. Come on, let’s get you to bed.

+

“Shit! What time is it?” Kirk asks sitting up suddenly, his heart pounding.

“The time is oh-five-forty-four,” the computer answers.

“Shit” Jim repeats. “Spock’s stuff – his couch is still in the corridor. We’ve got about fifteen minutes before the lights come back.”

“Ugh!”

“Bones, wake up NOW.”

“Merry Christmas to you too, asshole.”

Kirk jumps out of bed and scrabbles around on the floor looking for his clothes.

“I thought you’d got it all back,” McCoy says grouchily. “What the hell were you doing all that time?”

“You know how big that couch is – there was no way I could maneuver that into his quarters in the dark on my own. Shit, that’s your boot. Wow - how big are your feet?”

“Shut up and give it to me.”

“So where’s my boot then? Ah. How did it get under there?”

“I take it you’re feeling better, then? McCoy asks, his voice part muffled as he pulls on his shirt.

“Yeah, just tired. You dressed yet?”

“How are we gonna get it back to him without waking him up?”

“Easy – he stayed the night with Uhura. He said as much last night.”

“He did?”

Kirk begins to make his way carefully through his cabin.

“Ow, fuck!”

Kirk can hear McCoy hopping.

“Careful Bones – don’t need you in sickbay as a patient.”

“Ha-ha. Why the fuck’s the coffee table in the middle of your cabin?”

“Couch replacement.”

“Right – that makes so much sense.”

Out in the corridor, Kirk’s relieved the couch is still there, and a cursory check shows it’s empty. He’s not making that mistake again.

“You take that end. I need to get the door open. Okay, now push. You need to swing it wider. Stop, it’s stuck in the door! Change the angle. Okay, back up. Now, bring it round to the right. No, not that way! “My right. Your left.”

“Well make up your goddamn mind – if you’re giving me instructions, it should be my left and right, not yours.”

“Okay push again. That’s it, now slide it, steady. Shit, this sounds like the sound-track of a bad porno movie.”

McCoy laughs.

Kirk’s pretty sure he’s got the couch back in the right position as the two of them leave Spock’s quarters. They’re halfway back to Kirk’s cabin when the lights suddenly come on. For a moment, Kirk’s blinded by the brightness.

“Good morning, Captain. Season’s Greetings.”

He spins round, squinting, to see Spock standing beside his door in his usual at-ease stance.

“Spock!”

“I am curious, Jim. Is it a Christmas tradition to exchange shirts with a colleague?”

Kirk looks down to see he’s wearing Bones shirt and a glance finds the doctor, wearing command gold, staring intently at the floor. And oh my god, bed-head, which shouldn’t be hot as fuck, but is. He dreads to think what his own hair looks like.

“Uh – well not exactly, we just thought we’d…uh…just try them on for size.” A three year old would see through that story, but his ability to improvise after so few hours sleep is limited.

“Indeed.” Kirk can see the barest hint of the tells that indicate Spock’s amusement.

“Well, I guess we better swap them back now, right Bones?”

McCoy doesn’t answer, just silently heads back towards Kirk’s quarters, his shoulders hunched. In a few years time, he knows they’ll laugh about this, but right now, he’s going to have to deal with one unhappy lover.

Kirk turns to follow him. “Merry Christmas, Spock,” he says over his shoulder. “Catch you in a bit.”

“One other thing, Captain.”

“Yeah?” Kirk looks back cautiously.

Spock pauses for a moment, clearly for effect. “Have you finished making use of my furniture and works of art?”

“Shit!”

+

 

Epilogue – Christmas Night

“...so as part of a Pilgrim Father project in grade school, the teacher told them about the Mayflower and showed them blueprints of the ship. Leonard noticed it didn’t come equipped with heads, and asked how they all went to the bathroom.”

Kirk grins. "I can just imagine Leonard, frowning at the prints, and then putting up his hand."

Leonora nods and smiles. “The teacher told him they had to go over the side of the ship. Later, when they were asked to draw pictures of the settlers making their new home, Leonard drew a picture of a pilgrim on the ship relieving himself, and apparently it was anatomically correct.”

Kirk laughs at the thought of young Bones drawing earnestly and looks up to see the very man approach them.

“The picture was on the wall for three days before the teacher noticed—”

“Mother!” McCoy said, sounding ticked, obviously recognizing the story. “Please stop with the embarrassing anecdotes. Don’t let Jim encourage you.”

“Oh but it’s obligatory, Bones,” Kirk grins. “I’m not encouraging Leonora any more than you encouraged my mother when you met her.”

McCoy looks like he’s going to say something, but snaps his mouth shut and stalks away, grumbling.

“At my request, Commodore Mendez gave me a dossier on your unclassified missions over the last two years, as I was curious – quite impressive, Jim. I can see why Leonard thinks so highly of you.”

Kirk feels himself flush. “It’s a team effort. I’m surrounded by good people and since I seem to attract trouble, I’m lucky to have Leonard to patch me up," he says, taking the focus off himself. “I sometimes think he’s wasted here, waiting around to put a plaster on my scraped knee.”

Leonora laughs. “Don’t forget, he’s also helped stop a pandemic, saving millions of lives and discovered the cure to two previously incurable diseases. I wouldn’t say that’s ‘wasted’. I’m very proud of what he’s achieved – what you’ve helped him achieve.”

"Me?" Kirk says, surprised.

“I understand you’ve been a good friend to him and helped him overcome his aviophobia.”

Kirk smiles. “Yeah, well he’s been a good friend to me, too.”

Leonora looks at him consideringly, smiles and pats his arm, then heads off to join a group from the diplomatic team.

Now alone, Kirk surveys the room and decides the party is a roaring success. The mess is filled with several hundred crew mostly in civvies, many talking in groups, some dancing – Sulu apparently doing the honors as DJ – and festive decorations adorn the walls, ceiling and food tables. He has no idea where it came from, but there’s a three meter fir tree in the corner festooned with baubles, tinsel and twinkling lights that looks pretty.

Thank goodness they hit the blackspot last night and not tonight. The memory of it makes him wince.

“Cheers Jim,” Nyota says as she approaches him holding up her glass of water to chink against his.

“How’re you feeling?” he says with a smile.

“Not as rough as this morning,” she concedes, smiling back. “Leonard’s hangover remedy seemed to do the trick – talking of which, is he in a better mood now?”

“Not really. He caught Leonora telling me some childhood stories.” After everything that happened the previous night, he fully intends to make it up to Bones later, and hopefully that will bring him round. In between work-related activities, he’s thought of little else.

“I think he scared half the diplomatic team at the meeting this morning,” Uhura says with a grin. “None of them are going go anywhere near sickbay unless they’re sure it’s a matter of life and death.”

“I’d say half the crew feel the same way! So,” he says with a wicked smile, “are you going to sing for us tonight?”

“Piss off, Kirk,” she says and turns the full force of her glare on him.

He’s long been able to see through Uhura’s badass front and grins. “You can’t talk to me like that. It’s insubordination.” There are times, like this, when he loves being captain.

“So, where’s our Vulcan friend?”

He’s been waiting for Spock to make further comment about his unauthorized use of Spock’s possessions, but despite sharing a shift, the subject wasn’t broached. Kirk wants to apologize, but he doesn’t want to be the one to bring up the subject. He’s been on tenterhooks all day and is now beginning to suspect that Spock’s letting him sweat a bit. The bastard, he thinks affectionately. At least he didn’t throttle him this time.

“Spock’s getting changed. He got delayed at the end of Beta shift with someone from cartography. Apparently they think there may be several colonizable planets in this region. If things go well with the Maralavians, the Federation will be able to claim this sector of space.”

“Huh, good work.” Interesting, but there he needs to know... “So, is Spock pissed with me?”

“For entering his quarters without permission and stealing—”

“—borrowing!”

“—stealing his possessions?”

Well, her thoughts on it are pretty clear. And in the cold light of day, he has to admit, it was a pretty crappy thing to do. Bones must really love him to have gone along with it. The thought warms him.

“Well, wouldn’t you want to know, Kirk?” she grins. Then, with a swish of her pony tail heads off towards where Chekov’s hanging out with Sulu.

Well fuck.

Before Kirk has time to stew on it, Mendez approaches him holding a glass of wine. “Captain, a most enjoyable party,” he smiles. “I see your crew follows the ethic, ‘work hard, play hard’.”

They watch as a conga line winds its way through the crowd, led by Scotty. Who else?

“They do, but they know their limits and with the help of Commander Spock, I run a tight ship.” Spock’s been an invaluable mentor these past two years.

“A highly capable First Officer,” Mendez says, echoing his thought. “In fact, I could say that about all your crew.” He met the department heads that morning at the first mission briefing and it was a lively discussion. “I’m impressed. I heard the caliber of cadets graduating in ’58 were exceptional – the loss of so many of them at the Battle of Vulcan was a calamity. I see now that Captain Pike cherry-picked the best for his ship.”

Wow, praise indeed. “Thank you sir, I’m very proud of them.”

As they drift off into silence, they both observe Jose Acosta across the room, talking animatedly with a group of his crew, his arms flying about as he enthusiastically chatters away.

“Mr. Acosta is quite…loquacious,” Kirk observes.

“One could imagine that the temporary loss of hearing wasn’t entirely without its benefits,” Mendez says, smiling. “If you will excuse me, Captain.”

Now that the party’s in full swing, it’s time for him to leave. He knows they all let their hair down a bit more once he’s gone. Scanning the room, he spots Bones by one of the tables of food and makes his way over.

“Can I get you a drink, Bones?” Kirk asks him quietly over his shoulder. “Maybe a ‘Sloe Screw Against a Wall’, or ‘Sex on a Beach’?” He smiles lasciviously.

McCoy turns to look at him and grinning, Kirk waggles his eyebrows. “I want to throw you on my bed,” Kirk adds, “and suck your brains out through your dick. How about it?”

“After last night, you’d better be prepared to follow through, Jim.” Kirk could see Bones was being only mock serious, and in his hazel eyes, he could see a look of hope and lust that went straight to his cock.

“Well, I figure something’s gotta go right. Right?”

With that, Kirk finds himself being propelled by the elbow out of the mess.

+

The door has barely closed to Kirk’s quarters when McCoy presses Jim up against the wall, his body hitting the bulkhead with a quiet ‘oof’. Their mouths meet in a searing, twisting kiss that goes on and on as though mere air isn’t a concern, with a fervency as if they’re meeting after a long separation.

Feeling Jim’s arms wrap around him as he enthusiastically participates, the tension McCoy’s been carrying around with him since the previous evening finally drains away. Clutching Jim’s upper arms like an anchor, he then feels those firm hands cup his ass and pull him closer, a leg slipping between his. Not surprisingly, Jim’s as aroused as he is. Their mouths and tongues work hungrily, the room silent except for the sounds of their sucking kisses and panting breaths.

Kirk’s slides rhythmically against him, gasping into McCoy’s mouth, and he pushes right back, the delicious friction setting his blood on fire. One of Jim’s hands moves to squeeze between their thrusting hips, palming his cock through his pants, squeezing and rubbing. McCoy’s rock hard and leaking, can feel the gathering momentum of his impending orgasm and knows he should stop, make it last longer so he can savor every moment. But yearning, desire, need, all the years of waiting, wanting, finally takes its toll. When McCoy opens his eyes, Jim bucks hard, and with a sob, climaxes, pulsing wetly against him. The beautifully erotic sight sends McCoy rocketing over the edge in a white-hot, shattering release, moaning into Jim’s slack mouth with each blissful pulse.

They hang together limply, catching their breath. As his faculties return, McCoy finds himself in a state of disbelief.

“I’m thirty-fucking-three years old, Jim,” he says, gruffly, half embarrassed. “I haven’t come in my pants since I was a walking hormone of a teenager.”

Kirk shrugs, all loose-limbed and smiles, his blue eyes shining in mirth; the sight makes McCoy’s breath catch and his chest ache with all the feelings he’s long harbored for this incredible man.

“Yeah, but after last night, Bones, I think we both needed to get it out of our systems.” He gives McCoy a long, lingering kiss that promises more. “Let’s go to bed.”

After Kirk orders the lights to twenty five percent, they leave a trail of clothes from the cabin door to the bedroom, arriving at their destination in just their underwear. Standing beside the bed, chest-to-chest, they kiss again. McCoy’s never been a huge fan of kissing, but there’s something irresistible about Jim’s mouth, all sensual and inviting. The thought of those lips wrapped around his cock makes it twitch in interest, which has to be the fastest turn-around time he’s had in years.

He pulls away from Jim’s mouth and starts to trail kisses along the line of his jaw, working his way down Kirk’s neck, tasting his skin, feeling his carotid pulsing rapidly against his tongue.

“I want to taste every part of you,” Kirk tells him, and gasps when McCoy bites him at the juncture of his neck and shoulder.

“Fuck!”

“Yeah, we’ll get to that,” McCoy promises and moves his hands up Kirk’s torso. His thumbs slide over well-defined abs and his ribs until they encounter two soft nubs. As he strokes over them with his thumb pads, he feels Jim shudder, and smiles against his neck.

As his lips trail up and latch onto an earlobe, he feels Jim sucking at his shoulder, no doubt leaving a hickey. He begins to worry the skin between his teeth as he moves his hands to skim up and down Jim’s back, enjoying the velvety feel of him, the hint of hard bone and corded muscle beneath.

“I want you,” Kirk tells him as he trails kisses along the length of McCoy’s neck, grazing, licking and gently biting a path up towards his jaw.

With an unexpected push, McCoy finds himself landing on the bed. Kirk drops his boxers and climbs onto him and then, with an almost reverent look, he hooks his thumbs into the waistband of McCoy’s boxer-briefs and begins to slide them down, a lift of his hips helping speed the process up. The smell of their musk, strengthened by their recent activities, fills the air, and he breathes in deeply, savoring the pheromones he knows are present.

When Kirk does nothing else but just sit there, straddling his thighs, McCoy wonders what’s wrong.

“Jim?”

Kirk reaches out and trails his hand from his pectorals to his stomach, making his muscles twitch in the process.

“I’ve always thought it was unfair,” Kirk says quietly, “that as my doctor, you got to see me naked a ton of times; but this is the first time I’ve seen you.” His lips curve into a smile. “I’ve got a pretty vivid imagination, but this doesn’t even come close. You’re gorgeous, Bones.”

McCoy feels his face heat with embarrassment at the sincere compliment. His instinct is to deny it – he’s never viewed himself that way; but he accepts it’s how Jim sees him and is grateful that he does.

There are a number of reasons why he’s never let Jim see him naked. As a naturally private person who’s somewhat self-conscious about his body, he’s never been a one to parade himself in front of anyone he’s not intimately involved with. But perhaps even more importantly, had Jim ever seen him nude, he was sure just from the attention alone – and he knows Jim would have openly looked because he’s like that and has no shame – McCoy would have almost certainly been mortifyingly aroused by it.

To be fair, when it’s come to Jim, he’s only ever allowed himself to view his friend’s body with professional detachment and never let his eyes linger. Now he’s free to do just that, to view him in a more subjective way, seeing the esthetic beauty of the man he’s come to love. His gaze trails from Jim’s handsome face to take in the broad, toned chest, the corrugated leanness of his abdomen, following the treasure trail of dark hair down to Jim’s cock. Plump with semi-arousal, it begins to twitch into fullness at McCoy’s ardent attention.

“You’re no slouch yourself, Jim,” he finally concludes with a lop-sided smile.

Kirk grins and leans forward, lining their bodies up for their first total skin-to-skin contact and captures McCoy’s lips. The earlier urgency now gone, their tongues twine in a leisurely dance until Jim pulls back, resting on his elbows.

“I’ve often wondered what it’d be like to kiss you,” Jim admits.

“And…?”

“And I think I’m going to need to do a lot more of it; you know,” he adds with a grin, “to gain empirical data.” As if to prove the point, Kirk leans down and McCoy finds he has no objections whatsoever in participating in this particular experiment – in fact he thinks he could quite happily lose himself in that mouth when it’s engaged in this specific pursuit.

Every slide of their tongues together sends bolts through him and instinctively, he takes Kirk’s ass in his hands and begins to arch upwards, pressing his hardening cock to Jim’s in satisfying friction, feeling him gasp into his mouth at the new sensations.

“Bones, Bones, Bones...”

“What?”

“Nothing, just can’t believe this is finally happening, so I’m saying your name like a verbal pinch.”

McCoy smiles and then sucks in a breath when a hot, wet mouth bites and sucks at his neck, sending waves of pleasure coursing through him.

Kirk begins to slide down his body, licking and kissing his way across his chest. He takes a nipple between his lips – causing McCoy to buck – sucking on it until it’s hard and wet and tender, then moving to the other to give it the same treatment. All he can reach are Kirk’s head and shoulders, so he contents himself with running his fingers through the short, thick hair.

Kirk patiently maps his body with lips and tongue, and to McCoy’s frustration, ignores the one place he’d like Jim’s mouth. When he finally gets with the program, McCoy is rock hard and the feel of his cock engulfed in liquid heat has him moaning and incoherent as he clutches at Jim’s head. It takes everything in his willpower not to follow his instinct and buck up into the welcoming mouth, fearing he might choke Jim.

A combination of suction and Jim’s busy tongue has him gasping and incoherent in only a few minutes. And much as he is loving it, he wants something more, feeling frustrated that he can’t reach Jim.

“I want to touch you, too,” McCoy says. Kirk clearly has no problem with that, stopping what he’s doing so they can rearrange themselves on the bed. This is the first time he’s ever seen Jim aroused, and even in its quiescent state, his cock is bigger than average. Now he’s up close and personal with it fully hard, he can see it’s an impressive size and he can finally do what he’s dreamed of for so long: taste Jim Kirk’s cock. He isn’t disappointed as the tang of pre-come hits his taste-buds during the initial swipe of his tongue, the flavor becoming stronger when he sucks in the whole of the head and feels Jim humming around his own cock in appreciation.

Jim doesn’t hold his hips back the way he’s been doing, but he’s okay with that, as he long ago learned – as a student doctor – how to suppress his gag reflex. When a gentle push of Kirk’s hips sends his cock all the way to the back of his throat, he’s rewarded with a gasp of pleasure. “Fuck, Bones, fuck!”

Yeah, probably not that many people can take Jim all the way in like that, and he feels a little moment of pride. Rolling Jim’s balls with one hand, the other pushes between his lightly haired thighs which part obligingly, giving McCoy more access. Sliding a finger along his perineum to between his ass-cheeks, his fingertip encounters the tight ring of muscle he's searching for and gently circles it.

It’s as if this action gives Jim an idea because suddenly, he lets go his cock, the air feeling cool along its wet surface, as he shifts to move his head between McCoy’s legs. He feels Jim’s tongue sliding back and suddenly it’s there, first a small suction formed by moist lips, which then gives way to a wicked tongue lapping and poking at the pucker. It feels so good, he almost forgets to breathe.

“Damn it, Jim,” McCoy gasps, releasing Jim’s cock, so he can lose himself in the sensations.

Jim, it turns out, is pretty inventive with his tongue, as he alternates between long, sweeping licks, gentle sucks, and short stabs, at first circling around the general area, but then starting to push at the muscle itself. It’s intense -- Jim’s mouth and tongue seducing him to mindless craving. When he begins to jerk himself to Jim’s rhythm, he’s surprised to find – so soon after the last one – that he can feel his orgasm building.

“If you don’t want me to come in the next thirty seconds, Jim, you’d better stop now.”

It takes some shifting, but then Jim’s sitting beside him, face flushed red. “It’s been a long time since I’ve done that to anyone,” Jim grins. “You’ve got quite a repertoire of moans and groans.”

It’s McCoy’s turn to go red – he knows he can get pretty vocal during sex and has a sinking feeling he’s about to provide Jim with a whole lot of new teasing material.

“So, are you going to fuck me, or what?” he asks as a way to change the subject.

“If you insist, you smooth-talking bastard,” Jim laughs and leans down to kiss him. He can taste himself on Jim’s tongue, a mixture of pre-come and musk and for some reason, it sets him on fire.

When they come up for air, Jim leans across him to his nightstand and pulls out one of the four tubes of lube McCoy found the night before. He’s reminded of the dildo and while Jim’s fumbling to get the cap off, he imagines the captain alone in his cabin, using the thing on himself. Part of him finds the image unbelievably hot, but another part of him wants to scream at all the time they wasted, even though he understands this could only happen now, when Jim’s ready for commitment.

“How do you want to do this?” Jim asks.

“On my back.” No question – he wants to see Jim when he’s buried inside him, wants to see his face when he comes. He pulls his knees back to give Jim access and feels a slick finger entering him. The muscle’s already relaxed from Jim’s ministrations, so it slides in easily.

“How long’s it been since you’ve done this?” Jim asks – a reasonable question.

He can feel the color creeping back into his face again, and curses himself for being a guy but apparently having the sensibilities of a shrinking virgin. “About six weeks.”

“Six…?” Jim pauses from working him open, his mind obviously working, calculating.

“Starbase 9? You sly bastard!” Jim grins.

He’s in full flush now. “I’m only human, for fuck’s sake.” Jim doesn’t need to know the guy he picked wasn’t too dissimilar in looks to his new lover. “Just get on with it!”

“Oh god, you’re not going to be a mouthy bottom, are you?”

McCoy glares at him and grunts when Jim presses in a second finger, which turns into a gasp when he wraps those cock-sucking lips around him. For some reason, it’s then that he remembers Jim hasn’t fucked a guy since before the Academy. In a way, from what Jim’s said, he’s kind of held out for him, and the feeling warms him.

Satisfied that he’s ready, Jim sits back on his haunches and begins to slather himself. The sight of Jim working his own cock is unbelievably arousing, and not surprisingly, because Jim doesn’t miss much, he picks up on it and turns it from a perfunctory action into something sensuous and intimate, a knowing smile playing about his lips.

McCoy finally tears his eyes away from the wanton self-pleasuring. “Any time soon, would be good,” he says as a reminder and Jim laughs.

They shift positions, so that the angle’s right; then McCoy feels the blunt head pushing against him and he bears down to accommodate it. Jim being so well endowed means that he’s really stretched and there’s some discomfort which makes him wince, but it’s nothing he can’t handle.

Jim pauses. “You okay, Bones?”

“I’m not made of glass,” he says, gruffly.

Kirk leans down, which means McCoy’s almost folded in half, and kisses him hard while gently pushing himself further in until he’s fully seated, merging them together. The first few thrusts are uncomfortable, but McCoy pants through them into Jim’s mouth. Gradually the muscles ease enough for him to start really enjoying it – reveling in the fact that this isn’t some random guy he’s picked up and having to pretend is Jim – this is the real deal.

They begin to move together, Kirk pushing himself up onto his hands and pumping into him. McCoy enjoys the sight of Jim’s muscles rippling with every movement, pectorals and abs flexing, showing him to be in prime condition, watching his cock sliding in and out, feeling himself filled. But it’s not nearly hard enough.

“Come on Jim, harder,” he growls, and Kirk complies, his hips snapping harder and faster.

“Yes, god, yes,” McCoy grinds out. It’s good, but it’s still not perfect.

“Change the angle,” McCoy demands.

Jim huffs and stops, beads of sweat on his forehead and upper lip. McCoy wants to lick it off, but he can’t reach. Kirk gives an experimental thrust and McCoy’s cock jerks up in reaction.

“Fuck yeah, perfect,” he grunts out as the new angle hits his prostate. “Yeah Jim, fuck me... Oh god, that’s it. You love it, shoving your cock in my ass…”

In response, Jim grins down at him. “Yeah, best feeling ever, Bones.”

“I’m tight for you aren’t I? I bet you like that.”

“Yeah,” Jim breathes, blue eyes shining in the low light as they gaze down at him intensely.

“And when I come I’m gonna grip you so fucking hard it’ll make your eyes water,” McCoy promises. With those words, he gets hold of his own cock and begins to work it.

Jim falters.

“Fuck Jim, what?” McCoy asks, exasperated.

“You have any idea how fucking hot you are jerking yourself off and all your filthy talk?”

McCoy bucks his hips up as a hint and Kirk begins to move hard, his slamming thrusts echoing around the room as a counterpoint to the grunts and groans they're both making.

McCoy grabs one of Jim’s hands and pulls it to a nipple. “Squeeze it hard,” he says and Kirk complies.

“Fuck,” McCoy says at the increased sensation. Arrows of pleasure are arcing through his body from the three points of contact. He works himself harder and faster, his movements frantic as he begins to peak towards orgasm. Jim’s thrusting becomes frenzied, his eyes clenched shut as rivulets of sweat run from his temples, his chest glistening.

McCoy starts up his filthy talk again and can see it’s affecting Jim. The pleasure that’s been flooding through him pools in his balls as they begin to retract and he can feel the coil rising, building pressure…

“Jim, look at me!” McCoy demands between ragged breaths and Jim forces open his eyes; and that does it -- his orgasm explodes through him in a convulsing, shuddering release sending thick white stripes across his chest.

Jim’s still thrusting, staring at McCoy, and when his internal muscles clench, it pushes Jim over and with one last thrust and a cry, Jim comes deep inside him.

Even though they’re both fit, recovery from their exertions takes several minutes as they lie, side by side, hot and sticky, trying to catch their breaths. It’s another ten before they’ve cleaned up and are lying together under the covers, lights out, where Kirk drapes himself around McCoy.

“Mmm. Merry Christmas, Bones.”

There’s silence for a minute. Then, “You’re not a cuddler, are you?” McCoy asks incredulously.

“I’m not cuddling, just getting comfy.” McCoy can hear the petulant tone.

“Who would have thought – the great James T. Kirk, galactic stud, is a cuddler.”

“Fuck off...Bubba!”

“Asshole!”


End file.
